Not the same
by Hound424
Summary: Six years is a long time. That's how long he's been gone. It started like one suspected: he played lab rat, like usual. Was supposed to impress the judges for his little sister...then it all went wrong. Sent to a world ravaged by plague and human violence. He fought, killed, and survived. Now he's back, alongside his daughter. Bringing with him nightmares and regrets...
1. chapter 1

**Alright, I'm not going to lie to you guys, but...**

 **I have absolutely no clue where I'm going with this story. Truthfully I was just bored and thought about 'hey, I already did a story(my first story, mind you) of Linc being sent to another world, so why can't I make another and all that jazz...**

 **So yeah...here's the result, or whatever...**

 **First I want to give a huge shoutout to TvFan2244, for his help in this little story of mine, even though he denied this once, I'm just gonna say it: Your awesome dude!**

 **Also, a shoutout to Mr. Haziq, if you read this, I want to say sorry that I haven't messaged ya in a while. And also this, my friend. I will still do 'Questionable Repairs' that I promise, just got to tweak it a bit and figure it out a bit more.**

 **Now, I don't know if I will continue this, hell I thought of doing a miniseries of sorts where Linc gets sent to alternate worlds and comes back. Maybe I will.**

 **Leave a review, tell me what y'all think...**

 **Now! Story time...**

 _'Thinking/inner thoughts'_

Speech"

 **~oOo~**

 **Somewhere in Minnesota...**

 **2082...**

 **64 years after infection...**

It was cold as it was beautiful, but to the young man atop a black horse, galloping throughout the pristine white snow in temperatures like this, it was just an annoyance, another eye sore, he found no beauty within any of this. The stinging sensation of the freezing winds pelted his face without a single fuck given to him. Like he gave any fucks either. But he pressed on.

White, white, white, and even more white, sides from the brown trees, yet they were covered in white too, that's all what Lincoln saw as he steered hope down towards his direction of interest, and that was anywhere but here. Wherever the hell he was, he doesn't know.

Taking a quick peak down on his little bundle of joy, Lincoln couldn't help but to smile warmly when he saw his baby girl of only a year old, sleep peacefully within the inner confines of the warm, faded, blue blanket, make-shifted into a sling that clung tightly around his upper body. Her tiny body pulled in close to him as his natural warmth helped keep the cold away from her. Added with the help of the equally blue onesie, mittens, and beanie that kept her little white locks hidden from this cruel world. Each were obtained from passing settlements from way back they started.

 _'Sleep tight, baby girl.'_ Usinghis free right hand he passed over its share of the reigns to his left, he reached over his head for his worn hood attached to an equally worn out jacket, but, like from before, he has no care. Looking nice gets you nothing here. It did its job well and he was content with it, it made it this far with him.

Yanking it down so it covered the near entirety of his head, even shrouding his face in a dark, intimidating, shadow, only a few of his white locks were visible as they stuck out from the corners and flowed with the lightly howling winds. The seventeen-year-old went after his neck to grip the old orange scarf of his, pulling the fabric up so it covered his mouth and nose, yanking the lose end that flapped next to his shoulder to tighten the neck wear.

"Let's go girl." Gripping the reigns with both hands, he pulled up and smacked all in one motion, signifying Hope to increase her speed, and that she did. With a loud neigh of power and a found energy, she moved faster then before, but enough in a pace that kept Lyla from waking up. He was thankful the continuous bouncing lulled the child to sleep.

The repetitive smacking of his rifle, axe, and revolver was annoying, but also expected, he had to suck it up; he always did. The former of the two hung over his back as the latter was secured on his right hip.

His attention was soon pulled up towards the never ending sky, the majestic blue canopy that hung over a world ravaged by plague, and human violence. Linc caught the sight of crows, a lot of crows, hovering over and circling around an object of their interest. He didn't like what he saw. He learned that nothing good ever comes from crows in this world, hell a flock of them ain't called a murder for nothing.

He pulled Hope over to the left as the trail ahead ended in a steep drop to whatever the hell it went. What he saw made him yank hard, stopping his trusty steed as the familar constricting force wrapped around his stomach once more in renowned paranoia.

Bodies. Two of them to be exact. To be even more analytical: one white and the other black, also both are dudes, so...yeah...extra crap and what not.

This was far from good and he knew it. What the fuck are bodies doing here? What the fuck are people doing here besides them? And what killed them? Those thoughts rushed through his head in the same rapid motion as he analyzed their bodies, but was difficult with all those damn crows in the goddamn way! With a sigh, he knew what he had to do, he didn't like this at all, but it had to be done. Could be anything, fuckers could have pissed the other off and offed the other, but each had good enough shot to kill yeh other, or...bandits. Tightening his right hand into a fist, the mere thought of those sick fucks wandering these parts put on him on edge even more. But the last cause of death...Puppets. Can't be...he hasn't seen any since back in the ruins of the states capital, Saint Paul. No way they could've wandered this far, even if they did they couldn't be able to infect the mammals that roam these parts. The cold should've got to them by then...

...right?...

Till he remembered from the old newspapers and audio diaries he collected over the six years he was transported here. Places like Canada, Russia, Sweden, Norway etc...they were pretty cold too...and they fell too...

Immediately shaking his head in the attempt to purge away the years of nightmare fuel he acquired during his time here, the teen was about to hop off Hope, until...

"Dada!"

His attention instinctively shifted down on the baby girl who extended both arms in the attempt to reach for her daddy, no doubt she yearned to be held between his strong arms as she snuggled in within them, safe, secured, and completely loved. It hurt him a bit, like always it did, no matter how many times he stares deep into her innocent gaze, unaware of the horrors that lie and wait in her world, her green eyes...Liz...

Feeling the sudden sensation as if he was being chocked by an invisible hand that refused to let go as it took away his only source of oxygen at the current moment. But he's also happy she got her eyes...her mommies eyes. They're beautiful. She's beautiful. They both are. His girls...or girl now...he misses her so...

He sat on the saddle with both legs dangling over the ground. "Well looks who awake. Sleep well, Lyla?"

She responded with more gibberish and what he describes as a beautiful giggle. Soon her attention was pulled towards the crows flying above them, she clapped and pointed with a mitten covered hand as she tried to reach for them instead. "Dada, Buh! Dada, Buh!"

He chuckled from her attempts. "Yeah, baby girl. Buh indeed." He knows he shouldn't be smiling, nor laughing in time like this, but you can't blame him. "Sorry, baby girl." Adopting an apologetic frown, eyes staring ahead at the two corpses playing buffet for those damn flying shits. "Daddy has to do something first." Gripping his revolver, eyes hard and full of no remorse for whats coming. Be iit man or Puppet, he was ready.

Feet crushing the snow from great force of his body weight, making sure Lyla is still safely secured, the young man quickly popped open the cylinder of his firearm with one hand, muttering a few dark curses as he only saw two rounds. Even quicker than before he checked his surroundings and leaned over towards Hope's side, where his pack was located, and dug in, finding what he sought after, the teen loaded the extra four .38 special as fast as he closed it back in place.

 _'CLIIIICK'_

With the hammer pulled back, bullet in standby, ready to fuck up anyone or thing that decides to jump out the snow covered bushes, he took the first steps towards the closest one; the black man.

Shooing the crows away. No doubt some of those flying were pissed that a human of all things would cross their _territory,_ for amusement purposes he imagined one the birds cawing out, "Fuck you human!" The mere thought of that made his mouth twitch up a bit but nothing more than that.

 _'Heh' well fuck you too...'_ Crouching down on his level, amusement gone. Lyla wasn't even aware of what was happening, her attention was aimed towards the environment around her as she gazed in wonder. Linc made sure she did not even see a glimpse of the body.

From just looking him over, he didn't even need to touch him. He saw what he calls fuck-holes, you probably call them bullet wounds. Three in total: one puncturing his lung, the other in the thigh, no doubt that was in attempt in dropping him first, while the last was caved in his head; skull and brain littered the ground for inches beyond. Close range, he deduced...point blank.

"Nothing," he muttered. He checked his pockets, pants, jacket, etc. nothing besides a couple empty bullet casings on em'

No one is stupid enough to go unarmed anywhere. What made it more strange is that he saw the outline of a gun, a pistol, on the snow, but it's not there...stolen?

Fuck, he didn't like this...

He was fresh...

Darting his eyes towards his buddy, pulling himself up on his feet, not before grunting from the painful sounding pops and cracks that emanated from the joints in his knees. "Fuuuck, I'm getting old-OH," he shut his mouth shut and gazed down at Lyla, sighing in relief when she was focused on the snowflakes now falling from the sky and onto the earth. "You didn't here that, ok?" He really didn't want her to start cussing before she could say daddy properly.

"Snooo!" She giggled when a lone snowflake kissed her nose, engulfing her tiny being into a shiver she enjoyed greatly and embraced.

The teen smiled as he walked towards the dead white man. "Yeah, snooo..."

Though, he did stop for a split second in morbid fascination when he caught the sight of a crow that stuck around, its beak poking and savoring the salty eye juices topped off with the side of irony blood as it tore part the skin surrounding his right eye.

"Get." Kicking away the bird, receiving a "Fuck you human." He kneeled down and did the same process he did with his buddy. Bullet wounds? Check. Total? Just two, one in the heart, other in the left lung. His pockets? Empty.

Shit...

No way was it infected. They don't fuck with the dead, unless they were hungry, but these guys weren't mutilated or have any claw, bite—no marks at all, sans the bullet wounds...

He caught the sight of footprints...leading to the bushes...

Double shit...

He knew he had to check...

Triple shit...

Standing on his feet, ignoring the pain in his knees, he speed walked towards the bushes. He stopped when he saw what he needed to see: a backpack—two backpacks, or what's left of them. Broken, torn, and tossed away after they were searched clean of any precious material they held.

Shit times four...

That's all he needed to know. He backtracked towards Hope, de-cocking and holstering his revolver, ignoring Lyla's random gibberish, he gripped the reigns once more and as he sat on the saddle ready to go, his stomach growled...

...nothing but shit today, huh?...

Hunger overpowered him. He may have enough mush to last Lyla from the last villages/settlements they passed a while back. But him? He hadn't eaten for sometime and it was taking its toll on him. But what's there to even-

And there's a rabbit...well, one more time, shit...he just stared at the white bunny as it hopped along its merry way, unaware of the hungry human, jumping down a path that led towards what used to be old lodges...

He blinked. "I can go for rabbit..."

 **~oOo~**

 **Royal Woods, Michigan...**

 **Loud House residence...**

 **2023...**

The moon hung safely above the skies as it gazed down, shining its low, natural light on this part of world, while the rest is engulfed by the never ending darkness that naturally comes and goes every time. The stars, though few in number, are seen, as the rest are shrouded by the light pollution emanated from the city itself.

One would expect a night of rest and bliss dreams, or horrid nightmares that have no problem ravaging your mind as its torn apart piece by piece as one would probably wake up panting, screaming, or wetting their sheets, maybe all three. But for one little girl, she had no time for rest. The last six years was her nightmare.

Within the confines of Royal Woods literal loudest house, home of the Louds, though the tone has fell as the tune wasn't the same as it was before six years ago. It was still loud, but not the same.

Lisa Loud, now ten years old, glided through the pitch black hallway as she approached her and her youngest siblings shared room, grateful that Lily opted to spend this night with at one of her many friends house, using this to her advantage. Rubbing the bags from her eyes she gripped the knob and opened the door as fast as she shut it, not caring at how loud it was, no doubt pissing off a few of the younger occupants as the older siblings, sans the dumb blonde, went out to do their own thing.

And there it was. The machine that started it all. Oh how it mocked her so. What was once a piece of great ingenuity birthed from her own powerful mind, what was supposed to bring what was once science fiction into reality. Awe, that was her goal to bring upon the other great minds that played judges that day.

Winning...she may not be as competitive as Lynn, but that's what she sought after that day. Something the Loud sisters each have in common. Each one with great talents, unique to the person. None are greater nor are they inferior to the other as they bring them strength and victory in the multitude of competitions each one has participated and won...

Except him...

Their own brother. Her big brother...emotion flooded through her once more as she tried not to cry again, but failed as a lone, stray, salty tear slid down her left eye, leaving a stain on her cheek. Removing her glasses she wiped the liquid sadness, but she can't wipe away the pain...that's something else entirely.

It was her fault. That was what she told herself. Thats what her own siblings said to her. In reality it wasn't and they knew it. But...people are not in their right mind when they're angry, people will always do stupid things when that emotion, the one that brings pain and nothing but negative feelings, is in control. The only ones who hasn't shown her any form of malice were, of course, her own parental units and her youngest sibling/roommate. Leni was kind to her and understood (surprisingly) she wasn't at fault, accidents happen. Later, the rest came around, but the trust wasn't there anymore. She was thankful they would forgive her, yet she knows they haven't truly done so, but that's ok...she understands...

The six years was peaceful...in a way. Well, 'sides the twins constant fighting, that never seemed to end at all anyway. She hasn't done, or even touched on the thought of an experiment for the entirety of those years. Nothing, nada, neit, nein. Explosions ceased, her famous "I'm still alive!" Quote from everytime a serious one were to ever literally blow up in her face. The roof hasn't flew up in years. The reason:

She had one objective, and that's to bring her long lost older brother back...wherever the hell he is...

But tonight's the night, all her hardwork, struggle and self hate, it all ends here. A signal. That's all she needed as she stared once more with misty eyes at the computer screen. It was weak, but it was there and that's all she really cared about. The only issue was that she had no idea where it was located, too scrambled, nothing in the maps showed, but it beeped. She knew he was smart, so there's no doubt he kept the beacon with him, well she hopes he did...no...no more doubt. She shook her head, expression serious, she was ready. This hell must end.

With a few more taps from her keyboard, the command was set, the teleporter came to life, it hummed with electrical power surging through its wired, multicolored, veins. Crackling was heard and seen within the inside of the machine as the elctricity arched and wrapped around itself in an unpredictable mannor.

Her hands shook, sweaty palms she had wiped on her jeans multiple times already. Gripping the remote, she aimed it, and pressed the button...

...nothing...

No.

She pressed it again...

Still nothing...

Th...this can't...NO!...

 _'Click'_

I'm sorry child...

 _'Click'_

Life isn't fair...

 _'Click-Click-Click-Click'_

It's ok to scream...it's ok to cry...

 _'Click-Click-Click-Click-Click-Click..._ she dropped to her knees, the remote fell out her hands. Tears fell from her eyes...

But it won't change a god damn thing...

And that's how it went that night. Lisa removed her glasses, not caring as she let them fall on the floor, she placed her palms to her face as she tried to hold on, at least gain some control of her emotion, but failed miserably.

"Failure," she croaked. "You—Your nothing more than a damn failure."

She doesn't believe in God—why should she? She's a woman of science after all, she searches truth, not mythical mumbo jumbo...but that night...like all other nights from before...she prayed...

The question:

Did god here her plea this time?...

 **~oOo~**

 **Back with Lincoln and baby Lyla...**

 **Somewhere in Minnesota...**

 **2082...**

 **64 years after infection...**

With a homemade bow and arrow in hand, Lincoln took aim. Both his and Lyla's breath visible from the frigid air as they exhaled, the formers throat burned from the cold touch, while the latter enjoyed the feeling. The baby was curious, her adorable eyes locked on her papa as she watched in immense fascination at what he was doing.

Slightly crouched down, the young teen examined the little white bunny carefully once more. It was small, but it'll do for now. But his main concern was infection-it always will be. The virus soley infected mammals, but he knew it was safe. The rabbit didn't twitch in a manic state, no leakage of bodily fluids from the eyes or ears, nor did it foam at all-it was in control of itself.

And it'll taste fucking delicious. Ahh~ rabbit. His stomach grumbled from the mere thought of meat-actual delicious meat.

"No hard feelings, little guy," he had the shot, "but a guys got ta' eat," and he released.

The arrow flew, it twirled, it impaled. It did its job, and it did it well. He watched as the rabbit flew from the force, neck skewered as blood painted the white snow in red. Life began to fade, yet it held on the best it could with whatever strength it had left, or even had in the first place. The sight of the large human standing above it did nothing but accelerate its already fast paced heart into new levels of speed. Front teeth opening and closing, gagging on its own blood that continued to drown it in the irony taste. It was all over when the human lifted it up to his level from the arrow.

Linc was quite impressed on how it held on, "Tough little bastard, aren't ya?" Whispering the bastard part, for _obvious_ reasons. The only signs of life left was its right eye rolling up and down its own socket, and it's bottom leg kicking every few seconds, either than that; damn thing is dead as dead can be. Looking over, he saw Lyla trying to reach, and at least get a glimpse of what he caught. With a shrug he brought the now dead rabbit closer to his daughter, who's expression lighted up as she tried to reach for the deceased animal.

"How 'bout that, huh baby girl?"

She continued to reach. "Bun! Bun!"

He chuckled at her adorable gibberish. "Yeah, bun—Whoops!" A droplet of blood fell from the imapled edges of its neck and onto Lyla's forehead, splattering a bit of her benie a bit as well, but the baby giggled, not even a bit disturbed from what just happened.

Linc quickly reached down and pulled out a rag from his black cargo pants right pocket, "Heh' sorry, sweetheart," and wiped away the blood. "There," he announced. "Now this." Gripping the arrow he yanked with ease; a sickening noise of torn flesh, and maybe a bit of bone, resonated for a quick second as he also pulled off white fur and even more blood that flew and stained his upper right arm. Not that he really minded, or even cared at all. There was a time where blood will faze him, 'specially blood of something as innocent as this bunny, it's life taken by his hands, well technically this arrow, but you get what he means.

"There," flicking the arrow of any more of the red bodily liquid, he proceeded back to Hope, old girl was stayed right where he left her, between a set of bushes and a small stack of rocks, each covered in a layer of snow, and still falling snowflakes. With one hand, in a fluid motion, he gripped, wrapped, and tightly secured a length of dark brown rope around the multilated throat of the rabbit, letting go and watching as it dangled in place- left and right, right and left, all in one motion of the same position.

"Alright," he mutters as he gripped Hopes's reigns, right foot inside the stirrup. He was about to lift himself up until a metallic stinging sensation made him hiss from the mere feel of it on his bare skin, dropping himself onto the ground. He dug inside his jacket, underneath his stained and stitch ridden white shirt, he found the culprit. What was once an expression of annoyance switched immedialty into a soft frown as he stared deep at the little faded, reddish orb that once glowed with light, but now stayed dead for over six years.

All he has left of...them...

The beacon...

To think it all started like that, he mused. He misses them dearly, everyday, but...he had to let go, it was only right...he couldn't let his feelings cloud his mind in this hell he was accidentally sent to. He had to survive, fight...rid himself of his own humanity so many times before...he has to protect her now. Gazing down at Lyla with a soft smile as the baby cooed at her daddy.

With a heavy sigh, he gripped the beacon firmly within his palm as he shook it up and down for a good three seconds before letting it fall back in place, "Let's go," hopping back up on Hope they took off, but only in a slow pace as he decided to at least sight see a bit. Nothing much to see, but better than nothing: old cabins and maybe some hunting lodges from way before stood, snow covered roofs, some caved in, others with their doors torn from their hinges, windows bashed and shatterd, he also saw some old scorch marks.

Nothing really new to him, or to anyone who calls this hell whole of a world home...

As he continued to stroll about he didn't notice the faint glow of the beacon, the red flashed for a brief second before dying, but if one were to look closely they could easily see a faint sign of life in the core, faint, but still there.

His mind wandered back towards those two dead men, a sense of understandable worry continued to fill his gut as he felt the familiar paranoia go through him. He's more terrified of the _normal_ people than the Puppets, at least the latters predictable. Humans are something else entirely when they're in full control of themselves, capable of shit so terrfying, so wrong...Jesus...he sometimes wonders what's the fuck wrong with him now. There was time where he would flinch from the mere of thought of one of Lynn's auto-attack games, now he doesn't bat an eye when someone's head is severed infront of him, or if he's the one doing the severing. He's mutialted, broken, burnt, even suffocated people to death in these long six years. Does he regret it?...

...maybe the answer is yes...I mean with the nightmares and all, but...those have always been there since he saw first hand at what's out there. He wonders if they're even truly safe, but this is his best option, to raise Lyla the best he can, for her to be safe, that was his...it was their plan, but with Liz...gone...

His eyes harden into an emotionless, determined stare as he focused only on the path ahead, which did not change in scenery as it stayed in a perfect run on of snow, snow and even more fucking snow, plus the rundown cabins, trees and bushes, but nothing new...

...until he heard someone, a man, cry out in pain, nothing but agony, he ceased Hope's movements, his breathing ceased as well, even Lyla felt the shift of the atmosphere become far more somber-more grey than earlier...

He knew those types of screams well...

He should have made them turn the opposite direction, get away, gallop faster than ever, but he couldn't. It all happened so fast that he had no time at all.

He watched as the man fell onto the snow, no doubt forcefully, his left arm bleeding profusely, his panicked expression darting behind him, he was running away, Linc deduced. But when his eyes landed on himself, Lincoln had no time to react as the man threw up his good arm up, hand in a pleading motion, "Help me!," his cries echoed. It disturbed Lyla that she whimpered. "PLEAS-GAK!" Another man, one with a navy blue hood shrouding his face, came up behind him, thrusting a makeshift wooden spear with great force it pierced through the poor bastards back and out where his left lung was located. Poor bastard choked and convulsed, trying to hold on, eyes focused soley on the protruding tool of death raping his insides with ease.

"Fuckin' finally!" Another voice shouted, another man, this one with a puke green scarf wrapped around his face, only his blonde hair stuck out from the edges, goggles covered his eyes. His right hand gripped an old revolver, while the other held onto a two pairs of rope connecting to two horses.

Linc had to get out of here, but he froze when hood glared at him. Both held their gazes for what seemed like an eternity.

Scarf didn't see him, but was confused on what his buddy was doing, "Oye, what you see?" His question was answered when he followed his friends extended index. Underneath his scarf, he grinned maliciously. Ohhohoho~ another fishy has come to play, to bad he didn't notice the revolver in his hand and the rifle strapped to his back.

And Linc wasn't going to lose to these fucks. Quickly he aimed his revolver at whoever was in his sights, scarf took the first step but nearly fell on his ass when a round nearly tore his right thigh, missing and hitting the snowy ground instead. "MOTHER FUCKER!" Both men scampered towards their startled horses. "You sonava bitch!"

And thus the hunt began...

Horses neighed, profanity was thrown and bullets whizzed from both directions as Linc and scarf played cowboy, while hood held onto his spear, unable to do anything besides keeping his head down and swerving his horse into left, in the hopes of not getting shot. Lyla was used to the roars of gunfire as she had heard it so many times before that her infant ears has registered it as normal, but in this moment, she sensed her fathers anger, she heard his bit out curses, she didn't like this...so she whimpered, tears pricking from the edges of her beautiful green eyes, lips quivered.

The mere sight, even if it was just a quick glance, was enough to make the teenage father hurt. His heartstrings were tugged violently as his eyes registered his baby girls face, her whimpers made him grit his teeth harder than before, there sheer emotional pain of seeing his little girl hurt in a time like this driven him further, to the point where he was set on bashing both those bastards heads with his fists. He would have consoled her, hold her little form tightly between his heavily scarred arms, whisper that it will be alright, but he couldn't, not now, and he hated that.

He winced when hood finally spoke, but it wasn't words, it was a battle cry; the sheer savagery, high pitched volume of it echoed throughout the snowy landscape. Spear raised to the air, eyes on fire as his sights are soley on the ashen haired survivor and his stuff, unaware of the baby at all. His cries reminded Linc of those movies of the Native Americans rushing into battle, clubs and all, their whooping war cry ushering a blanket of fear onto the invading white man. And this guy mimicked it perfectly.

But what he didn't know is that it was more than just a battle cry...it was a signal...but it was already to late. More men came out of nowhere, brandishing an assortment of weapons, be it melee or firearm based, they jumped out the bushes like wolves, the shere bloodlust is so ripe in the air that any idiot can feel it, even taste it.

With just four shots left, he took aim at what's infront of him and pulled the trigger. The one with a machete gripped his chest as he fell onto the frigid ground, choking in his own blood, his comrades left him, but one scavenged his near dead corpse for anything valuable before joining the fight in hand. Lyla was nearing the tipping point where the damn holding her tears was close to total collapse.

In his path, the young man left behind two more fresh corpses, each with equally new fuck-holes within their very being, but they kept coming. He only had one round left; he cursed when he had to use two on the last guy, _'Fuckin' leg shot,'_ he growled within his mind. It's good to put someone down, but not so great when you want to put 'em down for good with the first shot.

He actually held hope they could make it out of this skirmish, but that hope, like so many before, must die. Hidden from plain view, within the prickly confines of the bushes, snow peppered his jacket, a hunting rifle in hand, the bandit followed path of Hope's movements, taking aim as he steadied the rusted iron sights on her head. With a sly grin, he pulled the trigger...

It was a perfect shot. Hope's skull was caved in, the bullet stirred her brain, and finally exited it out the other end. Her neck snapped from the force, finally she fell as if she were nothing; taking Linc and Lyla with her. The young man gasped from the sudden drop, letting go of the reigns as he instantly wrapped his arms around Lyla, to prevent her from feeling the fall he twisted his body so he fell back first. Hope layed dead, only her back leg kicked once before the grim reality settled in. Finally, Lyla cried. Her wails echoed louder and were greater than the bandits savage cries.

"What the fuck?" Linc immediatly stood up with a grunt when he heard the clear voice of one of the bandits, "Is that a baby?" Fuck! He moved fast, nearly slipping but regained his footing as he made it to Hope's corpse. With a final pat on her side, he gripped his backpack and sprinted fast. Lyla continued to cry, her father tried his best to silence her cries, but it won't change a damn thing. They saw him.

"There!" A bandit pointed as hood, from before, flung his spear at the ashen haired boy and baby girl. It missed, but Linc heard the whizzing past him fast, a new found great motivator, he ran faster.

As if so called luck was on his side, he spotted a lone cabin, though broken, taken over by nature, he took it, aimed for it, and sprinted so fast that it would put a certain athlete to shame from the sheer power of his legs muscle; a baby, rifle, axe and backpack holding his stuff, including arrows and bow, adding to the weight and this boy is just pushing through.

The beacon glowed again, this time brighter and in a rapid fashion of three until pausing on the third, then repeat...

What was thought to be a fight between members of what's left of the human race would soon be interrupted as the third player, the nightmare that has ravaged this world with its infection, would awake from within the cabins that were thought to be abandoned. Drawn towards the screaming, savagery, primal roars, blood and resonating cracks of bullets flying. With stained teeth bared, bodies never ceasing in their convulsing state, multiple inhuman roars echoed throughout the icy air, shaking every non-infected to their core.

 **~oOo~**

 **Royal Woods, Michigan...**

 **Loud House Residence...**

 **2023...**

Lisa, after sometime, has finally ceased in her sobbing fit, yet she continued to hiccup everynow and again, her eyes ran dry of tears, but it left her red and puffy with a slight blur in her already crappy eyesight.

She starred blankly at the laptop; the faint red continued to blink in a slow mannor. It was mocking her. It should've work, he should be here, all those years and she still failed! Gritting her teeth she slammed the computer close, not caring if she caused any permanent damage to the device.

With hands clenched in strained fist that shook from the mere force of her great anger and self hate, the young genius glared at the teleporter. Not caring at all from the repercussions of what would come next, she cocked her right fist and thrusted it with great force that the metal hide vibrated and rung like a bell. She continued to do so for at least forty-five seconds, her fist met the metal, ignoring the pain, ignoring it all, until-

"HEY!" Einstein stopped her left fist an inch before it made contact, faints traces of blood staining the steely grey metal. The bratty voice of her equally bratty older sister, Lola, pierced through the extremely thin walls. "Cut that crap off! Someone's trying to get some much needed beauty sleep!" the twelve year old twin was accompanied by other smaller voices of her siblings voicing in agreement as they too want some much needed sleep.

Dropping her hands, she gazed at her now bruised hands, turning them over, her knuckles were red from both blood and bruising, some skin was torn, and finally, she hissed through her teeth from the lingering pain that came back full force. The young girl curled and uncurled her fists. Tiny, but noticeable, dents were visible from her punching moments ago.

She just...couldn't take anymore...not tonight. Removing her glasses the young genius rubbed her face once more and sighed. Already knowing the way, she threw a tarp over the teleporter, and made contact with her bed headfirst. Shutting her eyes, Lisa let much needed sleep consume her.

Like so many times before: failure...but not this time...

 **~oOo~**

 **Back with Lincoln and baby Lyla**

 **Somewhere in Minnesota...**

 **2082...**

 **64 years after infection...**

With the broken door shut, the cracked window bashed from the butt of his rifle, Linc crouched down, making sure Lyla was safe from harm as her body was hidden from plain view, but her wails continued; damn that girl has some lungs. He looked on as he saw the bandits scamper away, but not from him, but from the monstrous infected, or as they are known: Puppets. Like always, the freaks of nature came out of nowhere; sprinting, lunging and downright savagely ripping apart any non-infected caught in their sights. The bandits were scared-he was scared. But he couldn't show it...not to his baby...

With a soft voice, "Lyla." The baby ceased her crying when her fathers voice registered in her ears, looking up, his warm, fatherly, but extremely worn, faded blue eyes caught hers, "It's ok," he smiled, just a bit, but it was enough. "Daddy's here. I'll always be here. I'll always protect you." Leaning down he gave her a small kiss on her forehead. "My baby girl..." He finished.

Little Lyla could only stare up at her father with those big ol' eyes of her, filled with wonder, though there were still some tears left, she had completely ceased her crying. The one-year-old giggled, ignoring all of it; all the screaming of pleas and No's, the savage inhuman roars of who were once human themselves, it was as if it wasn't there in the first place.

A smile broke out on her face, little arms extended, "Dada!" She exclaimed.

Linc chuckled lowly, "That's my girl."

Corpses and nightmares. That was all there was when he awoke in this hell. Lyla is his light. She is all he has left. And he'll be damned if he fails!

He took aim, watching as the two bandits from earlier: Hood and Scarf, all that's left of their group as all men, horses included, were hunted down like animals, torn and clawed to death, or, left to fester in infection as the parasite began to take hold of their twisted minds. Hoods body was completely swarmed with them, only his right arm was visible, spear a few feet away from him. Scarf was still kicking, literally. Screaming as they kept coming, no matter how hard he tried these monsters pushed back harder; biting, clawing, ripping him apart. With no other option, he wasn't going to turn. He pulled his revolver and quickly placed the barrel to his head, and pulled the trigger.

Now their attention was on him...

Fuck that.

Pulling the trigger, the young man watched as the freaks from hell sprinted towards his position, chests were torn apart, heads blown with brain alongside the mess, gross flesh flew, some fell to ground as they suffocated on their own blood as it flooded their lungs and internal organs. They are not people. Not anymore. Not like he cared anyway.

But no matter how many he put down the bastards kept coming. For every Puppet he killed, another would gain more ground than the other, and he knew when they come the door cannot hold at all.

 **'BANG! BANG! BANG! BANG!'** He just kept firing. His only real motivators being his will to survive, the drive to protect his girl, and said girls cries of "Dada!" No doubt her version of chanting him on.

 _'CLICK-CLICK-CLICK..._ oh fuck me. With a growl and a barked out, "Mother-" he removed the empty magazine, stuffing it away for later, as he was about to pull out a fresh one out his side, the beacon came to life...

The teen had no time to react as whiplike, high powered strands of electricity completely wrapped around his and Lyla's form, the latter confused and in awe at the bright blue light that just seemed to glow brighter, but her father could only look on in complete, utter shock, eyes bulging out and mouth agape underneath his scarf...

No...it can't be...it couldn't have—it shouldn't be working at all...how...why?!

Using his current predicament to their advantage a few of the infected broke through the door with ease. Linc was brought back to reality and only saw death staring back at him, the multiple faces of death. In a frenzy state the Puppet in front lunged at him, dead set on him and the baby. Lyla felt her fathers distress, his fear and when the chilling cry of their attacker came at them she once again broke out in wails. He couldn't move, the electrical wraps kept him in place.

...maybe luck is real and the bitch decided to turn the other cheek and smile on them...

Like a defensive barrier the elctricity sensed the infected and shot out, tearing its body apart and leaving a singed heap of burnt flesh and other nasties. Linc could only stare gobsmacked as he watched the rest of them follow the others to their deaths.

All the father and daughter saw was blue and white, white and blue- it didn't matter, those are the only colors they saw as the electricity covered not just the entirety of their forms, but their sight as well. With whatever strength he had left, Linc wrapped his arms around his daughter.

"Lyla!" he shouted.

Finally...they were gone...just like that...all that remained was a multitude of bodies, scorched marks, bullet casings and the lingering stench of death...

 **~oOo~**

 **Outskirts of Royal Woods, Michigan...**

 **2023...**

Within the grassy fields of Royal Woods dawn has broken in, with it the sun has poked his bright head. Crickets were replaced by the birds that sung their luscious melody, simple, but soothing tunes. Various other day creatures awoke and began to roam around their home as the nocturnal ones went to bed. It was peaceful...

Until it wasn't...

Out of nowhere a fissure of electricity sparked and cracked in a crazed fashion of no control, scaring the hell out of nearly all the surrounding critters.

A loud thump was heard, accompanied with the audible wailing of a baby. As the light died a familar figure was scene passed out, but his arms were still wrapped around Lyla, yet her cries never ceased. The only signs of life was the rise and fall of his chest, but other than that he didn't move a muscle...

One things for sure...he was home...

 **~oOo~**

 **[Outro- Civilian by Wye Oak]**

 **And that's that, I hope y'all enjoyed this and whatnot.**

 **Please leave a review and tell me what y'all think.**

 **Till next time...**

 **Hound out...**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow...I'm actually quite surprised you guys actually like this story, but the majority ruled and I read and took the reviews to heart, so here we are. Chapter 2 of Not the same.**

 **Linc is back home, and it's been six long years for him. Now seventeen years old, a father of a one year old girl, Lyla, who was born in a world of death, destruction and plague. A hell he has battled and survived in for those years.**

 **What has he seen? Well just wait, but he's seen shit. What has he done? Enough to the point where he buried who he was and his humanity many times before. Can he be fixed? Hell no man...hell no...you can't fix something as broken as that...hell**

 **Now! Story time...**

 _'Thinking/inner thoughts'_

"Talking"

 **~oOo~**

 **Outskirts of Royal Woods, Michigan...**

 **2023...**

In the midst of dawn throughout the city that is simply known as Royal Woods layed the unconscious long lost son, brother, and friend known as Lincoln Loud. For minutes on end the seventeen year old father, survivor, and wanderer has yet to even show signs of waking from his trip to lala land. The only signs of life was his chest moving up and down in rhythmic breathing. On top of the teen, and wrapped around protectively in his limp arms, was his one year daughter, Lyla Loud, or simply, his baby girl. The child couldn't continue the wailing as her young throat has begun to hurt, and with zero results on her father in awakening. Lyla has instead continued to whimper, silent tears fell from her eyes, following the stain paths on her cheeks, wetting the back of her neck and blue blanket she is wrapped in.

With all his gear scattered around them, but visible and reachable, Lincoln was the definition of a mess. Very much so he was, but that's what six years in hell would do to you—any human being really.

With his stitch ridden jacket opened, revealing his white shirt covered chest underneath. Red blotches of various sizes, big and small, dot and stain the faded, dirt covered white. It doesn't take a genius to figure out what the red is as some of it is his, while some...not so much. Like his jacket it's torn, pulled, and seen a hell of lot better days...probably. Almost like a repetitive pattern, stitches dot the fabric as well, all of which of various colored thread he was able to obtain from trade or simple theft from the unsuspecting.

His face was no longer covered by both his scarf and hood. The former pulled down around his neck, and the latter layed bunched up underneath his shoulder blades. Various scars old and new, the new still red and healing, mar his face. To top it off was the light stubble of chin and upper lip hair on his face, dark bags under his eyes; days to even weeks without sleep clear as this October day they lie under. His white locks, though still white, have seem to darken into a near light grey color around the tips, no doubt years of stress, alongside his hair was clumps of dirt, a few twigs and leaves that got caught, and a greasy look and touch.

This boy isn't a boy anymore...oh hell no...

Lyla gazed at the blue sky and the white, puffy clouds that roamed it as they floated away or towards the other, combining and creating new and imaginative shapes. Usually the child would look at it in wonder and try to reach up to at least get a piece of the heaven above them for herself, but she wasn't in the mood. She was scared, and no one can blame the baby. All she felt was the need to be pulled deeper into the strong, warm, and scar ridden arms of her daddy...

Nuzzling closer into his limp limbs and chest the child said only one word, "Dada..."

The bond between father and daughter are strong with these two.

Like a small miracle of hope, if that even exists, the young man stirred, mumbling random gibberish to himself, his eyes moving underneath his closed lids in a rapid pace, finally he gasped, heaved, choked, and coughed on his spit. All he saw was blue, felt the cold breeze on his exposed skin, the hard ground on his back, and his...Lyla!

Lincoln tightened his grip around his baby girl, bringing her closer as he quickly sat up, only to grit his teeth and stifle a growl as the sudden rush hit his skull like a mallet, the pain was bearable but not welcomed at all, yet he pulled through as his attention was soley set on his little lady.

Breathing back in control, eyes a bit blurry but his vision working, the teen caught a sight that broke his heart; his daughter crying. He felt responsible for this as he wasn't there for her, even though he was passed out he felt it was no excuse.

His near dead, blue eyes and her vibrant green met.

Her tiny arms extended. "Dada!" A smile broke out on her innocent, tear stained face.

The father smiled back, though small, it held immense love for his daughter as he brought her closer to his chest. The child snuggled into him, while he muttered low apologies for her ears only. As if the child could sense his distress and feeling of guilt, Lyla brought a small hand and patted his right cheek, while giggling of course, her laugh and action elicited his own chuckle, though deeper and hollow, it held the very emotion of love he had for her, with a hint of amusement.

"Heh' that's my girl." With a light sigh he took in his surroundings. All of this...it wasn't right...no snow, no lodge's used for cover, and no Hope...ah...that's right, now he remembers. It all started like that, he thought they would get a lucky break, but yeah right...luck his ass...like that even exists. Then the bodies, the bandits and their ambush...the Puppets and finally...OH JESUS!

With eyes wide he immedialty dug into his scarf, feeling the metal around his neck. Quickly searching, he finally found the little sonava bitch: the beacon. Tearing it off, snapping the chain in the process, it hurt but he made no reaction, small bits of metal fell onto the grassy ground. Staring right at it his eyes widen even further, biting back a curse for Lyla's sake when the orb glowed a bright red. He tossed it quick and watched it land a good three-feet away from them, but his slight fear left him when he saw no reaction, no electricity, nothing...

Taking another much needed breath of fresh air.

 _'Where the hell are we?'_ He mentally questioned when he took everything in once more, but in true analytical clarity. It was cold, but not Minnesota winter cold, so that's good...unless there's Puppets or, God-forbid, bandits roaming these parts. The former he can deal with since they're predictable, the latter...humans are cruel.

But he had to press on...no other choice in this life of his.

With wobbly legs he forced himself up, nearly falling over, he stood up fully, left hand around Lyla, while the other loose but twitching, almost itching for a confrontation of any. Not his first time bashing some asshats skull with one hand.

Feeling Lyla squirm he shook his head to rid the rest of the fuzz in his vision, craning his neck left and right and sighing in satisfaction from the cracks and pops that came, he looked around and simply walked towards his first object of desire, and the most important: the revolver.

All the while his mind was busy in asking itself, while looking into the various possibilities on where they are. It's possible they were sent to some other part of the nation, or world, either way it's all gonna be the same: survive or die. That's one, but the other...scares him...an other dimesion...again...that thought made him pale as he slung his axe over his back. It was surprisingly very easy to tell he wasn't on Earth—er...his Earth when he awoke six years ago...no way in hell. But the shock was great when he learned just how fucked up and what he was gonna have to face in that one.

A nightmarish hell that was full of nothing but corpses and forgotten hope that extinguished the light of a past where people can be people and not fear the harsh reality of living monsters, plague of men turned blood lusted animals.

With a resolved look on his face, he bent down and kissed the top of his child's head. Pulling up his scarf that now covered his nose and mouth, zipping up his coat, securing his rifle, and slinging his gear over his shoulder as he finally placed the last bullet into his revolver and clasped the cylinder closed.

The beacon still lied there on the grass from where it landed after being discarded out of slight fear. Lincoln ceased his movements as he stared right at the faded, red orb on a now broken chain. Even after all this time he still couldn't leave it after the fright it brought him and Lyla. The sentimental value was great as it was the last piece of anything physical he had left from his home, his past, his family.

Lincoln slowly walked the ridiculously short distance, bent down and picked up the beacon, gripping it tightly under the palm of his hand, the young man knows it's not a good idea to carry it around after what happened earlier...obviously. But he took the chances and carefully placed it within the dark confines of his pants pocket.

With a low sigh, taking in the sight of the heavenly blue above their heads, Lyla also looking up as well as she cooed at the beautiful sight above her, Lincoln nodded and picked a direction without a care, and walked.

 **~oOo~**

 **Loud House Residence**

Another lazy Sunday in the Loud house and all of Royal Woods in general, until the dreaded tomorrow know simply as Monday, where work and school would come back full swing. For the former they went about it the best they could, but it was also another day without...him. Six years is a long time.

And anything could happen in those years, especially change. The only that never changes is change after all, be it good or bad, depends really on who it affects, and for the Louds there's good, but there is still bad in the mix...the latter though has been more prevalent during that time, yet it's getting better...slowly.

Under this morning the remaining Loud family, mainly filled to the literal brim with girls and with just one man in the mix, are all seated in the family table, once known as the grown ups table, but that was years ago. Each one going about this morning by munching on the delectable, mouth watering, orgasmic goodness of the patriarchs cooking.

Rita took a sip of her much needed coffee as this drink has become her life line for who knows how long, and will always be as being the mother to these many requires a lot of much needed energy...a shit ton really. But things have calmed down as her daughters have gotten older. She internally frowned from that. Though they are still loud in every way...it isn't the same loud as it was when...her baby boy was still around...it feels as if a pitch or note in their chaotic sympathy just ceased or...died...she pushed that thought far away.

She let her eyes wander on each seat of the table surrounding her. Leveling a quick stare as she took in every individual of her family, her beautiful daughters and her loving husband, a smile etched on her lips. Until her eyes wandered over to a lone chair, left empty for so long she questions why neither of them or herself had taken the liberty to place it away far from their sights from the emotional tearing it causes. The blue of her motherly eyes has seem to fade a bit as a cloud of creeping heartache found its nasty self in.

It hurts. Of course it fucking hurts...who can blame her from feeling like this? She carried him inside her for those nine, long months. Each moment was a blessing and she never regretted it one bit. Now she knows what's it's like to lose a child...and it wasn't his time to leave that nest yet, no way it was. She refuses to believe he is dead. She cannot—won't accept that! Once more, Rita felt the familiar constriction on her heart and throat, the latter more fiercer as she felt as if an imaginary coil just tightened. Taking another much needed sip of her cup of joe, the mother was able to loosen that tight hold, just a bit.

It was in no way in hell easy...

Time and time again, Rita would daydream what type of young man her little boy would be. She has no doubt he would look tall, strong and handsome type of young man she and Lynn has envisioned and hoped he would become under their's and his sisters guidance. She nearly fell into her lala land from just a mere thought of him.

Nibbling on her mouth savoring bacon slice, closing her eyes as she enjoyed the sensation of deliciousness just like the rest of her daughters...all except one. And she knows this one well.

Rita gazed upon the tired form of her second youngest, Lisa. A small, sad frown on the mother's face as she examined her genius of a daughter. She and Lynn were well aware at what she was doing last night. Like every night she had the chance really. Lisa chewed on her eggs with her usual emotionless expression, well it seems emotionless, but if one were to look closely they could easily see a downcast look. Six years of lack of sleep under her eyes in the form of dark bags, still in her light green pajamas, and hair in various loose strands, tangled and no real care; she was a mess.

Throughout the entirety of this, Einstein has been hit the hardest with guilt and emotional turmoil as she feels she is the one responsible for this mess to begin with. It didn't help as some of her sisters did hold that against her. Their anger was great, but not as great as their pain that was really in control, not their rationality. She felt she deserved every word. It got to the point where she showed tears and sobbed like the four year old she was...that was when Rita and Lynn placed their foots down.

It was a harsh tongue lashing, but it did the trick as the Loud sisters were pulled from their mob mentality, seeing the broken form of their own sibling, witnessing her pain and heart wrenching choked tears made each one feel like complete, utter shit...

They know they can't really blame her...it was an accident...how were they—how was she supposed to know? Shit...shit just happens and no one can see it coming. Though no one can put this all on her, as she didn't mean for it, Lisa cannot help but to feel she is the one who has to make things right...even if it means damaging herself mentally, emotionally, and putting herself deeper within the rabbit hole of emotions...

And last night did not help one bit...

Each of the Loud sisters, sans Lily, had their own way with coping with this as they know they must continue on and live the lives they were given...it's what Lincoln would've wanted, or so they tell themselves.

Speaking of sisters, or in this case daughters. Rita looked around herself, each one of her daughters, from oldest to youngest, she took them all in.

 **Lori** , now twenty-three years old, and as beautiful as ever or greater than she was six years ago as she matured into the fine young woman she is today, though attitude could still use some work. Currently balancing a schedule of attending the local community college the town has and working at Gus' Games and Grub, has made this Loud quite busy, but she manages well with her time.

Currently she is working alongside her love of her life, her Boo-Boo Bear, or simply, Roberto Santiago, Bobby as everyone knows him, into maybe finding a place for the two of them as he decided to come back and attend school with her. It's amazing, these two had beat the odds of highschool love dying. Their fire still burns bright.

Lori tries her best to push away the emotions threatening to take over as she is, literally, a very emotional girl, but the mere sight or mention of her lost baby brother, stuff or name, has brought her into near tears multiple times, but as the oldest she promised herself to stay strong and keep herself in check...no matter how many times she was caught in a fit of eye sadness.

She knows she wasn't the best older sister as her attitude and haughty nature had put her at odds with her siblings time and time again. She wonders at times if maybe this is god punishing her for her rude actions and painful howling of disdain and fury for anyone trespassing her room...maybe it is...she prays for him...for her Linky...

No matter how many times she has apologized to Lisa that day, she must live with the fact she made another one of her own blood feel as though they are worthless and a literal monster. Promises she tried to keep in the hope of bettering herself have been made, some broken, but she isn't giving up...

No way in hell...

The blonde dunce, **Leni Loud** , now twenty-two years old, as naive towards the world as ever, but still radiant, caring, and far beyond the word beauty could hope to describe this stupid, cinnamon roll. She tries to keep going, she tells herself that's what Linky would've wanted, not to be sad, but move on and live her life...but it's hard...

Amazingly enough she was able to achieve what most considered impossible for someone of low level intelligence like herself: walking the stage, cap and full gown, a diploma in hand and those who hushed whispered behind her back silent in shock. Her smile was great that day, but wavered as she wished Linky was there to see her, congratulate her, hug her and tell her how proud he is of his big sister. Those eyes, so blue, young and innocent, the young male wonder she grown to love...the eyes she sees in her dreams...and her nightmares.

Sticking home with no job, Leni is one of the few sisters who tries to comfort the genius in the family as she at least knew it was a complete oopsie, and nowhere near anyone's fault. Though there are times where she is the one in need of comfort as her fragile mind would fall into the extremely spacious corner of her inner thoughts and toy with her feelings. Many times at least one Loud caught her saying the word Linky, laying on her bed with her phone, hugging said device as no doubt the digital picture of her brother was on full screen...

Still rockin, still jammin, and still rupturing ear drums from her deafening, but danceable, singable—straight up jumping while howling at the sky in joy and welcoming rush that is her music.

 **Luna Loud** , now twenty-one years old, finally at the drinking age, not that it mattered when she took her first drop at thirteen and continued to do so in every teenage event and concert she went to in the driven mindset of having a great time. A wild one this one is, but that's what her friends and band love about her.

She attends college alongside her big sis, mainly to gain some more ground and the hopes in learning more about her ever growing passion turned way of life known as music. With mastery in her axe, or luv as she calls it, and other instruments of rock, and lovely, lovely, ear noise, Luna has also showed great skill in softer instruments like the violin, piano, harp—the damn list goes on and she's darn proud of it.

The noise helps her to cope with what she lost: her baby bro. Always having been close to him since birth. This Loud hurt just as much as her mother had when the grim reality hit her far harder than anything has ever done before. Just like the rest she refuses the mere notion he is...dead...she...her brain in no way can comprehend a horror like that becoming her new reality.

Time and time when she plays to the crowed from her band's gig's, she pretends that he's there, roaring, clapping, cheering—just straight up supporting her with his smile.

Luna can't lie and say she hasn't walked inside his room, without anyone knowing. Never had his little domain been touched by others than herself, or so she thinks. In tired sweat from pouring her heart and soul and shredding her luv, she curled on top his sheets, taking in the fragrance of her bro, Bun-Bun pulled close to her breast...that night was a great night.

She has found the notion of the boy still holding on to a stuff rabbit adorable, if not a bit strange, but she can't judge afterall, everyone is different, sides, what the hell is normal?

...then the rabbit was stolen...by someone no one expected.

Luna continues to see the bright side, but there will always be a time where the brightness will be clouded by a dark cover of shadows and emotional scars. From just looking at Lisa shows the rocker she doesn't have it as bad. Luna feels for her younger sister, but no matter how hard she tries to console the genius, it's not as easy as it sounds as they were never close in the first place, she just leaves Leni and Lily to it.

For now...she'll continue to strum on her luv...and hope the tune doesn't get cut.

Ever the jokester, **Luan Loud** , now twenty-years old, grown, losing the braces as flawless, white teeth are shown from her beautiful smiles and contagious laughs, this Loud has made her dream come true in providing laughter and joy to others in the local comedy clubs of their town, plus with more and more still subscribing in her channel this clown was happy with her young life.

Always looking at the bright side, eh chuckles? When you look at it, who the fuck wants to keep looking into the bad? No matter what she will always miss the piece of her life, miss his smiles that she knows well, miss him and only him for he is her baby brother and she the big sister, but Luan knows she can't carry around herself the air of suffocating sadness, so she kept going, for herself and him.

She would latch on to her roommate whenever a bad dream were to strike or she was lost within her thoughts, the mind can be a scary place. Wetting Luna's shoulder as she muffles her tears and gags on her turmoil.

There were times where she would step into his room, believing she was the only one to do so, sit down on top his bed, and just take it all in. Memories would flash right before her eyes during those nights as she would remember and let out a slight giggle from every time they were to barge in like the untamed female storm they were. Whenever she had a joke that just popped in mind and she open his door and tell him, not even minding the groan, as long as she told him.

One night, she searched in his desk drawer, digging her hand she stifled a gasp as she found an old card with his face on it, a wide open smile on his face, black shirt and his hand writing, the words 'Funny Business' on the front, faded and old she knew what it was...the identity card she made for him when she needed an assistant during that time...

Luan cried that night, she was glad his room was far more soundproof then theirs, as her sobs were great, powerful and full of pain as she kept it all in for damn to long.

She would never hold this against her other baby sister, Lisa, but she couldn't help but to express the negativity that came out her mouth from all this...at times she wishes she didn't get so wrapped up in the whole singular mindset they have whenever a dark situation were to befall on them. She's tried her damndest to have Lisa at least smile and feel, well, alive, she ha sto deal with Lucy, but this is something else on its own.

She'll be here and try to help as much as she can. All she can do now is hope.

Sides being beautiful, can kick your ass in a multitude of ways and each ends with the dipshit who started it on the floor broken and coughing out a couple teeth, and master 'bout every physical sport known to man, **Lynn Loud Jr** , now nineteen-years old has changed a lot throughout the entirety of these long six years.

The a lot mainly comes in the form of physical as this tomboy has grown more in the feminine department as she displays beauty in looks and body, while keeping her fierce competitive mindset strong and continues to do so whenever she hangs out with her friends on the weekends, playing their usual games of football, basketball, hockey, whatever that gets her to sweat or at least get the blood pumping.

Currently undecided, she has opted to stay home, and think of many of the numerous career choices, but none have really caught her fancy, but it'll come to her...eventually.

Never was one to show off "weak side" as she called it, Lynn was prone to many emotions, anger being the most well known as she displayed that well after that nightmare of a day. Alongside various other emotions she never thought she would ever show or held before. She would feel the brunt of her parents tongue lashings, bringing her back to her senses as she also felt like shit for saying all those things to Lisa, even as nearly going completely physical on her.

She questioned many aspects of herself after that...

She questioned if she even knew how to show love to her only brother 'sides physical pain, forcing him into her games, or the constant teasing and name calling. She placed them down as ways to toughen him up as she saw his people as feeble and nerdy like him are eaten alive by the sharks of this world. Constantly bullied and picked on, she did not want her brother to be some fishy to a shark. But, looking deeper into it, they were never that close in the first place...they were when they once shared a room until Lucy was born, but their personalities soon showed and things changed...

Loss is something Lynn hates. She always wants to be on top, number one, a winner that pulls her team onto the pedestal of greatness, but this...who the fuck is the winner? This wasn't a game. There is no loser or winner, none.

Her cocky smile would waver, forcing the jock to excuse herself as she tries to gain control of her powerful, nerve racking emotions that just want release, just a little.

That release came when one night. On the second year she stood in front of her baby brothers' bedroom door, gazing longly at the wooden barrier, an almost lost look on her face, all in pajamas, she took a breath and turned the knob, it came fast and it came strong. Tears fell from her eyes as she saw it all in front of her play-out again; the time she bunked with him, Dutch ovens, barging in, all of it...

Then there was Bun-Bun. She would question why a boy would still need something as stupid and fluffy like this around him and his life after all this time. There were times she wanted to throw that old toy away in the attempt to have him grow up and grow a pair, but...when she lifted that stuff bunny, the soft fabric between her fingers, she felt secure...safe...like he was there the entire time. Like Luna, she curled under the sheets, pulling Bun-Bun tightly against her bosom, a smile—a true happy smile on her face as she sleeps soundly. Even after the dawn breaks, after she fixes the bed to show no evidence of her nights—yes nights. Many of them. She...just couldn't stand the thought of not having that rabbit with her...she took it...

Thus chaos followed...

Of course she was caught, by Lucy of course. What followed was a literal battle for the bunny by many of the sisters as Lynn was not letting go, and who can blame her? She needed security, but so did many of the others.

Arguing, fighting, cursing, and old wounds opened and flowed with a sick grin on its face. Ending when their mother took the rabbit, a pained expression on her face from just touching it, feeling it on her fingers.

Now Bun-Bun sits in a small box, locked, key with their father, to never be opened...

Lynn now has control of herself, but she will feel that same waver on her lips. She wishes she can make it up, start over, to at least say how much she loves him through an embrace and a kiss on the cheek, never will she let go...

Now this one...

As dark as midnight, and a mind blanketed by darkness and the fascination of the supernatural and anything spiritual, **Lucy Loud** , now fourteen years old, grown, though still a bit short, she possess the type of mysterious beauty a girl her age has developed.

With hair grown longer, her right eye now visible, her neautal expression never changing, this goth still goes about her life in a dark outlook, if not far more pitch black than she had six years ago...

Lincoln was her light, one of the very few, if any she had, sans her family, but his bulb was brighter and far more powerful. Now that light is extinguished, as if the switch it was connected to was pulled down and broken apart, beyond repair.

As others would see her as that gothic weirdo, or emo freak, freak in general as she can only find solace in those like her, Haiku and her companions in the Morticians Club. Lincoln did not, and she loved him for that. He saw her as simply as a girl, not like some strange outcast of society, he saw her as her, his baby sister, and he never saw it differently. Taking the blame of a notorious toilet incident he has done many times before until the actual day he was inccient of said crime, assisting her in her poetry in the need of words that rhyme, or by just listening to her strange dreams—even if he doesn't want to, or by just being there. A big brother he was and the only one she needed.

Now he's gone...

Yes Lucy cries, any human being, even one supposedly devoid of human emotions, can cry and cry she has. But her sobs did not come in the form of wails, instead her body convulsed as slight squeaks and coughs escaped her lips. A heart wrenching sight if any were to witness it in person.

Pushing aside others, nearly completely as she still converses with her family, but not by a large margin as she also distance herself from them as well.

She loves all her sisters, of course she does. She understands what happened was an accident, she held her tongue while others did not for the genius of their pact, but she couldn't look at Lisa the same, a lot of trust was lost that day.

There were moments where she wanted to lay on her on brothers bed and shut her eyes and let what she hopes are pleasant dreams roll in, but she never found the strength to even step close to his door. Even when her fingers dared to brush on the knob she would reel back in a panic.

Thus she avoids it all, even Bun-Bun as she couldn't take part in that mess called tug-o-war on that emotion driven afternoon when she saw Lynn cradling that rabbit in her sleep.

She wants it all to end, but she knows clearly how cruel reality is, how much it doesn't simply give one ounce of a fuck for any of them...

Two pairs. Both with the same face, but with a different mind and passion. One refined and beautiful like a princess, but possessing the bark and bite of an out of control aristocrat and 1800's slave master. The other dirty, sloppy, a lover of nature and beautiful in her own way as she not afraid to fling mud to your face.

The twins. Lola and Lana.

 **Lana Loud** , now twelve years old, and being the oldest of her twin by a just a few minutes, has changed in the physical aspect by quite a bit. No longer is she that little tomboy that hangs out with frogs and kisses lizards, now she's the big tomboy that still kisses lizards and prefers slimy frogs then actual human company.

Ever the handy woman, her skills in repair in any field of house, car and plumbing maintaince has grown and refined that it's pratically second nature to this grease monkey.

Though as she aged, so has insecurities grew as she became more self-conscious on how others, 'specially males her age would look at her, but reassurance from her twin eased her mind as though the two would fight, throw things at the other, bite, wrestle, kick, yank hair, and punch until there is bruising, the twins will never separate as their love is strong.

Like the others she wants things to go back to the way it was six years ago. She regrets barking at her younger sister fully, but her emotions were in total whack when Lisa said how she lost his signal.

There were times she would absentmindedly rush to her big bros room out of a habit, only to see the harsh reality of their situation press on her shoulders, making her shut the door and back track to her room with a downed expression, a sigh and a "I forgot" escaping her lips. Having such a close relationship with him hurt her in ways she never thought a person could be hurt as she realized emotional pain is the worst pain ever. These scars just wound heal, they won't even leave her alone at times.

As Lola was his princess, Lana would picture herself as his 'Mud Princess' as strange as it sounds, though she would never admit how much she wishes he would call her that at least once.

The afternoon when Lynn was found with Bun-Bun, hell, Lana never thought she would fight so hard for something as boring and childish like a stiff rabbit, but it was his and she wanted to hold it at least once. In the end it hurt even more by just looking at the stuff toy as much as it pained her to see it locked away.

She's glad she isn't alone in this. Lana knows she has to keep moving, who knows, she thinks to herself each chance she gets he'll be back...one day.

Like her twin, at twelve years old, **Lola Loud** has grown in beauty and height, still competing and winning crown after crown, trophy after trophy with her streak unbeaten and feared or respected, or both.

Like many of her sisters who preform on stage, she imagines Linky is there, praising her, joy just for her as he is the drive that keeps her going in her competitions. Reflecting on the past has riddled this Loud in guilt as she, like Lynn, feels guilty, bitchy really, as she has threatened him time and time again, has physically harmed him for her intentions, but she saw the good times as they acted as little sisters and big brothers should...

The princess may have grown, she may have gained an entourage in school for her looks, popularity soaring, but she still feels empty as she wants Linky back—needs Linky back. Never has she been yelled at so hard by her parents as her screams made Lisa cry, it was what she said that drove the genius over the edge and nearly ruined their relationship. She hates herself for that...she hates her attitude, but she can't change it no matter how hard she tries...somethings cannot be simply changed for a person.

The times she would cry, she would cry with her twin. Both holding on, promising not to let go until all their tears are shed.

Lola also cannot lie that she hasn't attempted in breaking the lock on Bun-Bun's "prison".

If there is one person who had it the worst, it's the prodigy of the family. At ten years old, **Lisa Loud** has said sorry more times than she ever imagined. Hands achey from nights of sketching plans and formulas, head dizzy from lack of sleep that she runs solely on coffee until her father forced her to stop and sleep, while standing next to her bed, never leaving for those long hours as he couldn't stand the sight of his own child hurting herself so.

Lisa wants to right her wrongs...she wants to see him again, if she has to she will fall, and has, on her knees and beg for this to end and to have her sole male sibling back. Her big brother...fuck just a sign is all she needs. Last night was that sign, but it failed...it always fails.

Teleportation. She remembers that day, all of it. How she wanted to show her grand creation, her hard work. They played 'not it' of course he lost. A lab rat he was, the rat he played, though with a smile of nerves on his face he took the first step, the door closed, a raised thumbs up, then 'ZAP!' The chaos that ensued as the machine backfired, she remembers his screams of fear, hands smacking against the glass, then the echo that still haunts her dreams to this day.

She felt she deserved every word her sisters dished on her. Each one made her want to cry, and it had. Lola's broke the damns as her human side showed, a waterfall of great magnitude, her mother cradling her against her chest, yet she never stopped crying.

She felt it was duty, her complete obligation to make things right as she saw the fault was hers and hers alone. But time and time her family would force her to stop, to at least sleep. She can't keep doing this to herself...

For those years the lessened volume of chaos and destruction came from her as she muted her noise of experiments, not one trinket was created by her hands as she focused soley on her self driven mission.

When the battle for Bun-Bun happened, Lisa didn't even participate, instead the genius took a much needed break and sat herself on her brother's bed, locking the door, utilizing the noise cancelation as silent tears feel from her green orbs. That day she fell asleep on his bed, no dreams, nothing but a blank canvas of nothingness...it was the best sleep she ever had...

Finally, the youngest. Though no longer a year old, she is still the baby of the family. **Lily Loud** , now seven years old. Out of everyone else, she has changed the most in every way.

Now able to say full sentences instead of just "Poo-Poo" when she was just a baby, this child has grown taller, smarter and her own person. With a fascination in dance this Loud is graceful on the stage, and a smile as pure and innocent as she is adorable.

The seven year old never knew her brother as she was far too young during the time, absolutely no recollection of him at all as all she knows is his name and the pictures of him that hang around the house and the old scrapbooks her parents keep.

Though, being as young as she is, Lily has snooped around and found her way into her brothers room, curiosity was great in this one. It felt strange, almost...she doesn't know how to describe the feeling when the door closed she jumped. But she was determined. Her findings interest her as she found a whole lot of stuff, but two things in general stuck out the most: his comic collection and video games. Lily had actually read each one, she can't help but to admit that Ace is quite a read. But it was the video games that caused an incident she wants to forget.

Simply, Lily plugged in his old gaming console, Muscle Fish, her first choice. She played away, until Leni saw her. The reaction of her older sister scared her as she watched her freeze like a deer, lip quivering as tears fell from her eyes, the others later found Leni hugging her knees, Lily felt terrible. Though she was reassured it wasn't her fault, she made sure not to touch that game, or any of his stuff as she feared another would fall into a panic of sorts.

She wished she knew her brother, she wished her family would stop hurting, she wishes that Lisa would stop ruining herself, she wishes...she wishes she knew what was life before. Was it happy? Were they happy?

All she can do is watch.

As well as Rita. The mother took in another sip of her hot drink, another day as a Loud. Rita held her gaze on the youngest, Lily, still in her pajamas, as she came home earlier as she didn't want to miss her father's cooking, humming a light tune.

"How was the sleepover, sweetheart?" Rita asked her daughter.

Lily looked up at her mother, cheeks puffed up like a squirrel, but replace the acorns with eggs, it was adorable as Rita and a few others laughed at the sight.

Swallowing, "It was good, mom!" A happy expression on her face, "Me, Miranda, Jane, and Sarah had such a great time, we-" what came next was the girl raising her hands and listing off each activity she took part of with her friends. Leni and Lola taking control of the conversation when she mentioned makeovers.

Rita smiled, her husband chuckled behind his newspaper.

Just another day...

 **~oOo~**

 **With Lincoln and Lyla...**

 **Some random road...**

It was so blue. The type of blue he hasn't seen for so long. One he has waved off without a care as he walks to the destination in his mind when he was just a mere boy, not a single eye batted at the sky above. A beauty he and many others never noticed as they went along with their lives.

Lincoln looked up, he took it all in, bit by bit, every passing white marshmallow known as a cloud, the streaks of white left behind to morph and combine or dissipate into nothingness...beautiful.

So used he was at the dark greys that twisted and wrapped around the other, a darkness warped with emotions of the negative side. The scent of hatred, distrust, and inhuman roars and violence in the air. The type of scent he has grown numb to. One that infected him in its spell.

Continuing on with a slight smile on his face when he felt his daughter squirm in her comfy confines as she continued to reach towards the canopy above, her eyes set on every cloud that met her vision.

 _'At least she's occupied,'_ he would take it to have sometime for himself, to think and watch the world around him.

The frown reappeared, though covered by his scarf, slight creases were made in the outline of his expression. All stemming from the sight infront of him...

Nothing...absolutely nothing. He's ok with nothing, a breather he would see it, a blessing even when there are no bandits, Puppets, or even uniforms roaming the roads, but this nothing...it felt almost uncomfortable.

Barren. The path ahead and behind them held nothing. So used he was at the dreary skies from the world of nightmares, he was also used to the husks and acting tombs of forgotten cars and other vehicles left behind during the initial years of the panic, the later rise of the Puppets, and so on. Not one single hunk of forgotten metal on wheels in sight.

Even as he kept walking in a controlled pace, no real direction, his eyes were lost in a sea of memories. Remembering the numerous paths he took with Liz as the two of them roamed the nation. That American Dream she called it. That brought a small smile on his face, as well as slight pain in chest.

Liz...

Tightly shutting his eyes, a low shaky breath escaped his lips. He has to keep going. One direction and that's straight.

Looking down on his baby girl, it amazes him that he has helped in creating this precious joy of his, alongside Liz of course. A brother, son, survivor, Scavie, murderer, thief, and now a father...all at seventeen. Who ever thought his life would turn out like this? Oops, also add in dimensional—accidental dimensional— traveler in the mix too. Crazy ain't it?

But not as crazy as the people driving behind him, eyes set on the young man as they wondered why a kid was in the middle of the road. Linc felt and heard the vibrations and roar of the vehicle behind him. Instincts kicked in as he shielded Lyla, right hand going for the revolver on his waist, but he was too slow as the car sped past them, horn honking with the driver sticking the middle finger while screaming, "Fuck out of the road!"

Both were startled, Lyla whimpered a bit. Linc's eyes widened by a fraction as he was surprised for multiple reasons. One was that car was no way the shape or form of any of the vehicles used by the military, only the military had access to vehicles as everyone else had to rely on horses or their feet for transportation. Two was that he able to see how clean it was; no scratches, stains, or any rust. The third reason that stumped him was that they didn't stop or shoot at him.

Any one lucky enough to have a car—one that works that is, would've just run him and Lyla over, rip their corpse off the front hood, and take his stuff.

"What the hell?" He muttered lowly. Being flipped off and told fuck in many ways was no surprise to the teen, but that was weird.

Shaking his head, he kept moving, looking behind his shoulder every now and again out of paranoia. With soft whispers he cradled Lyla and soothe his child from the jump scare.

The walk continued on without any interruptions, Lyla making up gibberish and pointing at anything that moved in her sight, and Lincoln, tired, sore all over, and hungry...yep! Just how he always feels...

Until...

Up a slight hill, feeling his pack slap against his back, the wind continues to blow, and Lyla fidgeting, the young man caught a sight that froze him in his tracks when the words were clear as this day.

 **Welcome to Royal Woods!**

All in bold letters, held by a sign, an arrow pointing straight ahead...he read it again...

And again...

Once more...

And a final time...

His eyes stayed glued on the piece, the welcome gesture it held lost on him, only surprise or any emotion really came from the widening of his blue orbs, filled and displaying a multitude of clashing feelings as he stares at a those two words. Words he hasn't heard or even said, as it would drive him into a pathetic rut.

But this...

Lincoln was no genius, not even close, but he placed the pieces together, still he couldn't believe at what he saw. Lyla felt her father shake. The type of shaky feeling where one is losing every bit of control of his or her's emotional mindset. The type where one might break.

To think after all these years—this fucking hell! He...finally...so many times he has yearned for this day, but as the days came and went, the seasons changed, the blood staining his hands that never could be washed off in the streams and rivers, after all this time...

He buried this away with who he was a long time ago.

Now, to him, it's like a big fuck you in the face. A sick joke...and he's laughing...

It started small, a slight vibration in the back of his throat that just grew as more of the same raspy sound came to life, filling his and Lyla's ears, the child still confused.

Is this god finally taking pity on him?

He fell on his knees, ignoring the pain as he hit the asphalt with a 'thump'. Laughter growing in whole new levels. Lyla has heard her father laugh before, but his tone was merely just low chuckles, never ya she heard him create this sound...it scared her.

It sounded broken.

Without even the slightest care more cars passed by, passengers caught the strange sight of a messy garbed teen and baby in a sling, the former laughing his ass off at the sky.

After all he's done, after all the miles he's traveled, the bodies left behind, the horrors he has witnessed first hand...it finally ends. Lost in this slight madness, one he kept in for so long. The father's howling fell, quieter and quieter until all that was left was slight hiccups of his cackle.

Ceasing it all at once, yet his body convulsed, the boy placed his right palm on his hair, under his hood, the pain in his eyes visible as he fights his damnedest to not cry—not even one tear...not again. A promise to never cry, a promise after she died. He had to be strong, cannot show an ounce of weakness for anyone...not even his own daughter...but this was too much. Biting on his lower lip to the point blood spilled, leaking into his mouth, coating his tongue in its irony taste. He—

"Dada..." her voice will always bring him back, no matter the situation just the call of his daughter will do. Flickering his eyes down on his child, he caught the sight of her concern, a tiny mittened hand extended towards him, the singular goal of calming her daddy, to bring him happiness in his despair. A tear rolling down her—wait...those are not her tears...

The young man was confused when he saw saw water on her cheek, sliding downward, he thought that it could be rain, but the skies were still clear, no droplets from the sky, from the sky mind you. Then another, right where the first landed, and he now knew where it came from. Bringing a finger to his right eye he felt the cool, liquid from his own. Rubbing away the tears he flashed his baby girl a quick smile, showing he is ok.

He is, but he isn't as well...

He felt like doing many things: pulling his hair until strands are torn off, screaming at the heavens so his voice can be heard, to straight up pounding his fist on something solid until his knuckles are sore and his skin is torn...anything. But he knew he couldn't. Suck it up.

Pulling himself back up on his feet, he knew what he had to do. Something he only thought possible in his dreams.

Craning his head downwards he pressed his lips on Lyla's forehead, wiping his tears away from her cheek, he had a new resolve.

"Come on, baby girl...there's some people I want ya' to meet...people you'll love, and will love you back..."

His sights set on the city ahead, he took the first steps, these faster than the ones previous, he had one objective in mind:

Going home...

 **~oOo~**

 **Royal Woods...**

He hated the various eyes set on him and his baby. Eyes filled with judgement, disgust, and accompanied by pointed fingers as the pedestrians of his old home ultimately fail at subtlety. Trained ears catching every whisper, yet he presses on. Jacket moving in tandem with his movements and the wind that lessened in its cold kisses.

He winced when the noise kept coming, having forgotten the crowded echos from a city long ago as the closet that ever came to this level would be the outlaying villages and small towns, but even then their sound would be muted by these people.

Lincoln stood out like a sore thumb. Everthing he wore screamed outsider, or in this case, hobo, as everyone saw him as such, others commenting and surprised at the fact he has a baby in his grasp, some showing sympathy as they silently pity the child for having a father as worthless like him.

He narrowed his eyes as he muttered "Bitch" under his breath from the woman that held no dignity to keep it to herself as she uttered those insults alongside her girlfriends.

He sighed, knowing he has to have control of himself, digging deep to find what shred of his old life he had left was not easy as he grew used to the fighting, cursing and biting back against others barks. A way of a life he adopted as he knew he had to be strong and push his way threw, though he does not care on how these people see him, he only cares if they dare utter a sentence that involves his daughter.

Lincoln hates fighting. But a times he has no choice. Survive or die, pick one.

Each step he took brought back memory after memory of his past, his eyes darting back and forth at the sights of well maintained buildings, not forgotten husks taken over by Mother Nature as she wrapped her vines and let her green seed grow around the modern structures built and abandoned by man.

This is his home, yet he feels as if he is nothing more than a stranger. Culture shock he supposes, and that's saying something. He spent more time in this world than the other, but he still felt strange for being here, even standing under the sun brought an uncomfortable knot in his stomach.

Slowly he remembered the direction to take as it all came back from each inch of his destination. Pulling Lyla closer to his chest when he caught the sight of officers of the law giving him a nasty look. Following him as he passed the curb and turned left down the street.

He did not fear them. Hell no. These boys in blue were more like annoyances than anything else. Having faced worst before, they wouldn't even last an hour in his shoes if faced against bandits, uniforms or Puppets. The law had no say, or any real meaning in that hell. Though few in rules, they were more like suggestions than anything else. The only "laws" came from the military and any of the villages that seem to have some civility left, but for the former, it always ends in a bullet in the head.

Or your head chopped off...Wait no...that's the bandits...wait no, no...bandits rape then kill, or was it kill then rape? Eh' to confusing. Either way, don't fuck up, steal someone's shit, kill another without knowing the consequences, and you won't die...probably.

Lyla was feeling something else entirely. At awe this one year is at the new sights infront of her. Never in her year of life has she seen a city that is alive and not a corpse of metal and concrete left to fester in the rot of infection. Cooing at every little structure she saw, giggling from the people conversing on cellphones, unware really at anything that has happend throughout this whole ordeal.

"Isn't it too early for Halloween?"

"Why's he covering his face?"

"Look at his shoes, I mean, damn. What's with the red paint?"

He really hated crowds now. Part of him missed where people back in that world would keep to themselves and such the fuck up if they didn't want to get shot up by some others gun.

Speaking of gun. Lincoln had to smack himself into forgetting the whole mindset of his original society. A no, no to guns or something like that he guesses. Plus cops. Yeah he didn't feel like getting frisked and taken away, and god forbid, have Lyla removed from him as well...that's a nightmare he doesn't want to come true.

Keeping his revolver hidden was simple, but for his axe and rifle? For the former he had to remove the axe head and place stuff is deep within the back of his pack, tying the wooden handle around the left arm strap, simply letting it hang loose. Dissembling his rifle was also an easy task, but the issue was space, a chore it was to push down and make room, but it was done.

One more turn, and it led him to a stop.

Forgetting the passerby's, his eyes were set dead on his reflection from the large window of a shop. Blinking as he took it all in, Lyla moving her head so she too saw herself, as always she stretched and reached, giggling a storm. Up and down, down and up he took himself in.

The little boy is gone...dead...

His head turned, wordlessly he continued down the path which would take him to Franklin Avenue. Drowning out the sound as he decided to pass the time, as he always does, by telling his daughter some random tale of a random time.

Down a fixed path a broken lad walks with a bundle of his hope in his hands...

 **~oOo~**

 **Franklin Avenue**

My god, isn't it such a beautiful day? That question came from the eldest Yates sister and sibling, Beatrix Yates. The light tanned young woman kept her ever present smile(creepy as hell) as she hummed a merry tune as she walked down her street, away from her parents home as she was off to volunteer at the local soup kitchen.

With all her assignments done for the day, no doubt all will end her up with great grades as she stands as top of her classes in college, this Yates has a bright future ahead of herself, she opted to instead help people then laze the day away, sides being lazy isn't well rounded, not one bit.

Though there is one problem. Smiling wide and having your eyes closed shut while walking isn't such a good idea as collided with a strong force, leading to her to let out an adorable yelp of surprise and slight pain. Rubbing her nose, the young Yates woman caught the sound of a slight growl, a males one at that, the sound brought some discomfort into her being, but she placed it aside as she wanted to know who she stumbled on to by accident.

Forced to crane her neck up as he toward her with ease, Beatrix froze a bit, a hint of uncertainty and slight mix of fear from the eyes she made contact with boring into her inner most self, as if he studying her soul. It was as if they were...dead...eyes of a dead man...a faded light that once flickered.

He coughed, she caught him cradling a small bundle, curious she was, and brought back into reality. Her smile back, but with a slight quiver of unease. Before she was to speak, he beat her to it.

"Watch where your walking." His voice deep and rough, the same growl from earlier lingering from each word that left his lips. She gasped as she caught the sound of slight gibberish, one of a higher pitch as she saw the sight of a baby in his arms, the bundle she deduced.

Feeling guilty as she feared she may have harmed the child. "Oh! I'm so sorry, sir." She took the chance to look him up and down, taken back from his appearance and lack of expression of any as his face was covered by a scarf and hood, only his blue eyes were left open to the world. The mere sight of him screamed poverty. Rags and an overly large pack on his back.

She didn't want to be rude as she was raised not to be. Shaking her head. "I didn't see you approach an-"

He raised a hand, shutting her up. Breathing deeply, Lincoln didn't want to deal with this, though this girl looked familiar. Teal jacket and hair band, nice complexion, pretty she was, her eyes told him all he needed to know:

Innocent, naive, someone who would believe any lie another were to spun to gain sympathy. A sheep that would be eaten by the wolves.

"It's fine...just please...watch where your going." Lincoln didn't want to be rude, he hates to be, but it's necessary at times. Better to move along than keep talking.

Beatrix nooded, but still felt bad as her collision could've injured the baby in his arms. "I will, but is there any way I could make it up to you?" Her smile coming back, strong as before.

Lincoln cringed from her smile. She really did remind him of someone, or was it more than just one? It's fuzzy. Just her overly friendly tone and naivety makes the young man picture what someone like her, a pretty little thing, would be put through for an act like this. No doubt viscously raped over and over again, the seed of her defilers and tormenters filling her up until they get bored and opt on a game of rock-paper-scissors to see who waste their bullet on her...

Jesus, is he fucked in head...

But he still holds kindness...

Lincoln decided the hell with it and took her up on her offer, sides, like said before, his mind is a little fuzzy.

"You can actually." Beatrix's expression lightened, looking expectantly at the stranger infront of her. "This is Franklin Avenue, right?" Absentmindedly, Lincoln placed a hand in front of Lyla, letting the baby grip her father's limb and play with his five digits.

Beatrix nodded with a hum, eyes set on his, but he caught a slight aversion from her stare.

"Why yes it is."

Lincoln hummed, "Good." Motioning his head straight ahead. "And the Loud house is just up ahead, right?"

Now this caught her off guard. Beatrix was unsure as to why this dirt covered...is that red paint? Person asked her that. Curiosity in full swing, she nodded and before she was to even ask as why he already side stepped her and walked straight ahead.

"Thanks..." Lincoln gave a slight wave, his back to her.

With a hand outstretched. "Wai..." the words died in her mouth. The Yates girl was confused, taken back and was...interested? She didn't know why but the way he carried himself brought more questions than answers...

 _'Strange'_ she thought to herself.

She knew the Louds, but not in a personal level, the only real time she had any moments with them was when her parents, she, and her siblings had some fun with them. She got to know Lynn Jr from kicking a soccer ball around, but either than that, well there is something else...the whole neighborhood knew and she and everyone else couldn't help but pity them. She cannot imagine the pain of losing a member of your own, though she has no idea—no one does really—on what happend with the only male sibling in their pact...

Why did his eyes seem familiar?...

Oh well. Beatrix shrugged and resumed her previous walk, destination in mind, overly large and unnecessary smile wide as ever, she went about her day.

 _'What a strange man.'_

 **~oOo~**

 **Loud House Residence...**

With one hand he pulled apart his hood and scarf, face now visible to the world around him. Chewing on his bottom lip, still tasting the irony sensation from the torn skin, the blood flowing from within his mouth...the only thing keeping him calm from what's about to happen in such a short time.

The years have been long and agonizing, but they seem to finally end. All the paths he took all lead to this one moment.

Just by looking at the house in front of him reminded him of a picture. A still image frozen in time as it all didn't seem to change one bit from when he was younger. Same colors, same blasted frisbee on the roof that never seemed to leave its spot, even in the most craziest of storms...

And he's seen crazy...

Before he was to take the first step of what he hoped to be end of his internal hell, Lincoln placed a hand inside his inner pocket of his jacket, pulling out a tin flask, small dents here and there and smears of various colors creating a sickly yellow hue. Unclasping the top he pressed the drink holder onto his lips, shivering from the cool sensation the metal held, but relishing from the warm, almost fiery feeling running down his throat, no doubt destroying his liver in the process...

But he loved it...the numbing...

Letting the burn sink in his pipe the teen safely clasped shut and placed his poison away into the inner confines of his coat.

A sight Lyla was used to many times before and may grow up around her whole life as she always saw her father with that flask between his lips at least once, twice, even more than three times a given day...or an hour. She doesn't understand as she is just a baby, but it seems to put her daddy at ease, so what's the harm?

Sucking in a much needed breath, Lincoln silently nodded his head, a fixed gaze at the door leading to what he lost, he took the first step...

The second...

Third...

He soldiered on even when a part of him wanted to stop and turn back. A sense of fear pushing its way in as it yells at him to leave as he is not welcomed, how even if they do recongized him they would want nothing to do with a monster who's white skin was dyed in red.

He ignored it...he accepted that he's a monster...what's there left to call him? Hmm? What's left?...

A future, but not for him. His mind was set on giving the child hanging by a sling a future where she won't have to live in fear, forced to look over her shoulder every five seconds, where her smiles will shine brighter than the glares her world is known for...

Where she can grow to be the beautiful, young woman he and Liz hoped for her to be...

Strike him down, end his life, leave him broken and bleeding, but let his baby girl live and be happy...that's all he asks.

And this is the chance...where people can be people, not animals...

Feet finally above the steps of the front porch, a shaky hand was raised, ready to smack against the red door infront as he knew only a non-Loud would ring the doorbell, sending them a body full of electricity and a lasting pain for minutes on end.

He stopped. Lincoln took the time to listen to the sounds coming from behind the barrier. Arguing, screaming—the good type of arguing and screaming, not the ones where others bicker on who gets to kill who, not the screams of fear and the roaring of the monsters from behind...it was the type of sounds only a family were capable of...one his ears longed for...

Finding his balls, his knuckles met the door roughly. One knock after the other, each louder than the previous, enough to silence the noise by just a small margin, so his sound can be heard. Taking a step back as he heard a muffled, "Coming!" That voice...

His heart raced from the turn of the knob and the creaking of the door as it opened, Lyla silent as well as she slowly became sleepy from the peaceful air around her. Her eyes were just roaming the skies in hope of anything intersting were to soar above her.

Lincoln's jaw nearly dropped from the young woman in front of him. Beautiful she was, mature, her favorite color purple seen from her mascara, highlights on her hair, and clothing, purposely torn in some areas. Though he towered her, Lincoln felt small from just her appearance.

 _'Lulu...'_ just one sister and he wanted to cry...

Luna had to look up to address the stranger in front of her. "Sup dude, can I help ya..." the words died in her tongue when her eyes were set on his face, not even noticing the bundle in his arms, soley on him as if a ghost stood before her.

For what felt like forever, the two of them stared at the other, neither breaking away as they examined the every unique feature their faces held.

He found no flaw in her face, just a one-of-a-kind beauty she held with pride. The freckles that dotted her cheeks just added to that rockin beauty, her eyes...still as green and powerful as he remembered. The same young woman—his sister—that held the aura of coolness, someone you can trust to have your back and give you a hell of a good time from just a random jam session, or by attending one of her shows...

His sister...big sister...his Lulu...god does he want to wrap his arms around her, let out all the void he kept deep in the pits of his mind, alongside his humanity...he wanted to feel her warmth...just please say something...anything he begs internally...

He shook...

And he wasn't alone, for Luna shook as well.

The rocker was in a state of panic and massive denial and slivers of hope filling her mind as she gazed at the young man before her...it couldn't be. It was her turn in this game of looks and what she saw was someone broken and defiled. Every little mark on his face, diagonal, slanted, vertical, horizontal, right and left even curved...all those slash marks...those scars on his face...his face...Linc—No...no...bro?...

Losing herself to the emotions, Luna gaped at the teen who'd stared back at her. Eyes no longer filled with the light of the baby she remembered all those years ago...the baby she held and sang to...the bab—teen infront of her...

His hair, though faded, his buck teeth, that smile, freckles...

"Lin..." the words died in her throat when she took the first step, a gasp escaped her lips when she heard a rustle and an adorable yawn emanate from his chest, a tiny hand and more gibberish escaped the blue blanket tied around his upper chest...the hand of a baby...and she got her answer when Lincoln saw her shock and eyes as wide like plates, he gently parted the fabric, showing her the baby hidden away...

My god...she was adorable...she was...

' _His...oh my god...'_ Luna had no idea on how to react then to let out an uncharacteristic squeak when Lyla gazed at her, green eyes matching hers, the child winning this unofficial staring contest as Luna had to blink when tears began to fill her vision and fall in a steady pace from her eyes, down her cheeks, and meeting the ground.

Lincoln smiled once more, though still small, like so many others before, he motioned Lyla towards Luna, the next words he uttered brought Luna over the edge. "Meet your aunt, Lyla..."

Clutching her rapid beating heart, strangled noises escaping her throat as she was confirmed on who these two are, but still feeling like this is no more than a dream.

Lincoln continued to stare her down, his lips parting as he uttered the final nail in the coffin. "I missed you, Lulu...it's me..."

Lulu. A name she has not heard for so long. A name only he would utter to her, one filled with love that only a little brother would hold towards his big sister...one word that made her break.

A shriek. A loud one at that, loud enough that the entire neighborhood most likely felt the vibration of it. It startled Lyla, but her father didn't deter, to him it was melodious as it came from her.

The emotional ridden rocker soon felt a hand, rough, strong, and full of calluses on her dainty one as his covered hers with ease. She felt him and he felt her after so long. Looking up once more, his smile looked like it wanted to break, a multitude of feet coming from behind as the others no doubt heard her cry. Luna brought her loose hand onto his right cheek, slowly caressing his skin, down to his chin...it was him...

"I missed you," he said. "I love you..."

The damn broke and she fell into a fit of sobs.

"Luna!" Luan yelled as she was the first one that made it outside, the others soon followed, confused and concerned, soon catching the sight of Lincoln, some froze as well, others were taken back from the scar ridden stranger, all unaware of the baby in his arms.

Luan, solely focused on her roommate, bent over to bring her comfort, but a quick reaction of Luna made her jump back in suprise as she extended her arm, finger pointed, still sobbing like the little girl she was so many years ago before rock n' roll.

"Loo-look at him!" She screamed. "It's him!" She wailed harder. "It's Lincoln...it's hi-him..." placing both hands on her face, snot and tears mixing as it fell on her purple top.

Those who didn't freeze, did. Those already frozen examined the teen harder than before and what each saw brought nothing but tears as they pieced the broken puzzle together...all except Lily, poor child was confused as she drew blanks from looking at Lincoln. But deep down, some part of her was telling her he was someone she knew...a long time ago...

Lincoln? She mouthed. The seven year old knew the name of her brother, but couldn't believe at what she was seeing or hearing. It was clear from the way her family were losing control and falling into a similar spell of a heart wrenching reunion.

Then their eyes met...

Lily stiffened as she saw the way he was looking at her, like he was staring right through her, gazing at her soul as he saw every deed she committed in her few years of life, but then she saw...heartache? Confusion once more swept her. His eyes displayed a pain she is sure she has never—nor ever wants—to experience...those eyes...so familiar...

A pain only a brother would know...

One by one each Loud sister and parent took him in, each one falling into a rut like Luna, choked gasps, mouths covered by hands, Lynn showing her "weak side". The athlete losing it all, no more tough girl, she let the forlorn sister in her take over.

Mascara ruined...

From Rita's and Lori's light blue, Luna's purple, and Lola's pink...it all fell from eyes as the colors mixed with their tears...

Yet no one, sans Luna, saw Lyla. The baby stayed silent.

Until...

Rita broke rank, one slow step was all it took when she met the distance towards her boy...her baby boy. So tall, handsome, the scars broke her heart, all of this broke her heart, and she can see him pain, his broken soul, the water in his eyes wanting to spill, the way his lip quivered. Mother and son.

"Mama..." He croaked. She gasped, neck craned up to meet his orbs. "Mama...I'm sorry." Dammit why?! After all this time?! "I'm sor-" Rita wrapped her arms around her baby. The mother placing her face on his shoulder as her cries soaked the fabric.

For all the inhumane pain he felt, all the lives he took, and all the people he hurt...all he wanted was this...he wanted her...mama...he wanted his mama.

Bringing her head up, lips near his ear, she whispered, "Mommies here...I'm here..." he broke, it was his turn to hide his sorrow onto her shoulder. His body racked and convulsed, teeth gritting out strangled cries as the others could only watch in happiness mixed jealously as they too wished to hug him.

Lynn Sr. wiped away his tears, a fatherly smile on his face as the day he hoped, prayed, and begged has finally came true. His boy was back from wherever. The father loved his children equally, just losing one, his only son, broke him...now that piece can finally repair itself.

Lisa had...an expression. All she wanted to do was run up and scream her apologies, beg him for forgiveness, all she wanted was to hug him and not let go. Einstein couldn't believe it..he's back...how? Ah fuck it! He's here and that's all that matters.

In the middle of their hug, Rita felt a tug on her shirt, the mother of eleven looked down on what was doing the tugging and the sight of Lyla made her gasp and jump back in shock, the others taken back from her fear as they grew concerned, Lincoln just chuckled.

Rita wasn't a genius like her daughter, but she knew who that child belongs to from just one good look. Eyes flickering back and forth at Lincoln and Lyla, he nodded slowly...she lost it as well. Alongside Luna she nearly fell on her ass when she took steps back, her husband catching her as he was beyond worried.

But jr. saw what made their mother and sister fall into that reaction, and she didn't know what to do sides point at the bundle made noticeable when Lincoln gently pulled Lyla out, a happy expression of innocence on the baby's face.

Each sister agape, Lily still so confused, and the Loud patriarch shaking.

Linc broke the silence. "Lyla...meet your aunts..." a tear rolled down his face. "And grandparents..."

Instead, Lyla's attention was somewhere else, a mockingbird flew above their heads, with little arms extended, a giant smile of awe on her face, the others stayed frozen.

"Dada, Buh!" She cries with a giggle in the end. "Buh!"

Lincoln looked up and saw the tiny avian. "Heh...yeah, baby girl...Buh..."

 **~oOo~**

 **[Outro- Civilian by Wye Oak]**

 **And that's a wrap!**

 **Jesus that was long!**

 **Like I said, I have no idea where I'm going with this. Just going along with the flow and seeing whatever happens, happens.**

 **I hope y'all enjoyed. Please review if ya can.**

 **Check out the rest of my other stories of ya could.**

 **Till then...**

 **Hound, out...**


	3. Chapter 3

**Look at that! I updated! Heh' Alright lets get to it.**

 **To anyone who is worrying-Don't. I'm not abandoning this story, just have the tendency to not think it through and just go with the flow. Yes I know well that pulling crap out my ass and typing it won't help in the long run, but it's a habit. One I need to break and start building before I write.**

 **With bullshit that is classes, life getting in the way, and my doubt from time to time(fuck you brain) I'm getting back on it the best I can. So sorry if the writing is meh and the chapter is trash. I have not done this in a while.**

 **So I give you an emotional train wreck of a chapter! Let the emotional mess chug on-CHOO CHOO!**

 **Alright, recap. Linc is back and the family he missed and they too for six years are reunited, but with an additional new member in their already large pack. An explanation is needed, Lisa is battling truth and imaginary from the mere sight of him and Lyla is gonna get a lot of love while Lily is confused and a little scared.**

 **Now! Story time...**

 **~oOo~**

 **Royal Woods, Michigan...**

 **Loud House Residence...**

 **Living Room...**

 **2023...**

She's beautiful...

Two simple words that filled the heads of each and every Loud daughter and parent present, even Lily, who didn't have a solid clue on what's going on, couldn't help but admit that the baby in the arms of the strange man that was apparently her long lost brother was cute—undeniably so. The seven-year old kept on looking back and forth at her family, concerned and slightly scared from the emotions and reactions that have fell upon them. Her older sisters, each fighting or in the middle of a continuing crying fit, Leni more open as she held both hands to her mouth, eyes blurry, soft sobs emanating from her weak attempt in a barrier.

But Lisa...she was somewhere else. Lily couldn't place it but when she took one good look at her genius sister all she saw was probably the definition of lost. How her roommate could only stand stock still, mouth agape, already messy hair pulled on and made worse by her right hand. The usual stoic, almost completely, emotionless genius was in a twisted hell from a wish that was prayed, fought, and engineered for six long years. A dream that came true which only brought her so much pain in barely a day.

Even her mommy was in such a state she only saw once before in her short existence, and that was during a Mothers Day a year back when Lily was six. Rita thought she was alone, a day to herself, but Lily saw the door of the master bedroom slightly ajar, and being the curious little one she was, peeked. What she saw was horrible to say the least. Broken words and jumbled sobs; her mother, the strongest woman she ever known, in agony. It was supposed to be a happy day that day was. Lily swore she saw a picture frame in her mothers hand, added to that was the brief glimpse of white hair...hair like Pop-Pop, like her brother...like this man standing next to the wall with the front door behind him.

She just couldn't believe it that this strange man was her big brother. It was insane, it was so unexpected in this lone day without warning. From the stories she was told and the pictures and the home videos she saw, she expected to see a nice person, someone who holds her blood in his veins to be...clean. He was not. Dear god no.

God was this confusing! She just came home for an amazing as always cooking from her daddy only for hell to break loose from one person. Speaking of that person, she was...afraid. Very. He just wouldn't stop looking at her, she was in his sights for minutes on end that she swore from every movement she took to shake him off, moving to the left, behind her big sister Lynn, and finally where she is now, next to the stairs he followed like a sniper guard ready to blow away his target into a pink mist of brain and quick death...he never blinked either.

Those eyes. Those cold blue eyes held something deep within she didn't want to know. They reminded the little girl of one of Lucy's many favorite monsters: Vampires. On the covers of her creepy, weird books and posters-orbs that belong to a corpse...but worse. She didn't know how but his eyes were far more worse and lifeless, or so she thought. From within those endless blues there was a light, a small one, that shone when he made contact with hers'; a light that glimmered when he saw them. If she narrowed her eyes and leaned far enough she could almost make out that lone tear stain on his right cheek, that and the multiple scars on him. Swallowing a lump in her throat Lilster averted her gaze and shifted over to her family, flickering back to him hoping he would stop staring...he didn't.

For some strange reason though, Lily felt almost...drawn to him. A feeling she cannot remember, its almost like the one she has for her sisters and parents, yet this felt weirder...almost stronger.

Though another thing that made her tilt her head in more puzzlement, what's with the red paint on his clothes? Well if you can call what's on him clothes in the first place. That, and the large backpack on him.

Lori, the oldest, an adult, and the most level headed(at times) was shell shocked. Pacing herself as she couldn't find the words to say as like the others. Stained mascara long having been runny smeared her face, mouth opening and closing, fighting back more strangled sobs wanting to rush up and take her over. The blonde beauty wanted many things; to scream and hug him, to cry and kiss him over and over telling him how much she loved him, to even all at the same time. For all that has happened it had to be today-a Sunday of all day! Second of the worst days of the fuckin' week leading to the first worst day. God...there was so much in her mind that...that...the-the-th-A BABY! A BABY GIRL-HIS BABY GIRL!

This was beyond her, right palm pressed against her forehead, eyes flickering down on his entirety that she felt sick at his appearance. That broken look in his face destroyed her a little, his scars that ruined the perfect face she used to kiss every night when he was a baby until he was four. Those eyes...they can't be his.

No. No whatever the case she was happy...she was confused...she...

Lori didn't know what to do.

'Lyla' She mouthed, barely a soft whisper.

Said baby preoccupying herself with her fathers hand he generously placed in front of her absentmindedly, one of her most favorite 'toys'. Playing with his calloused ridden fingers, making gibberish that touched all their ears, a sound that made Leni's lip quiver, Rita biting hers, Lana wanting to rush and look at her, tapping her foot restlessly, and Luna savoring each garble and high pitched squeal of innocence, a tiny smile on her beautiful face smeared in her purple eyeshadow.

Leni...Leni, Leni, Leni...heh'. A name for a wonderful young woman blessed with a heart a few could carry strong so naturally for so long. A fragile minded one that was fighting world war 3 inside herself. Out of all them, Lisa and Rita a close second and third, she was the most hurt emotionally. Nights she remembered how Lori would have to hold her from hurting herself from a nightmare turned screaming fest that awakened the whole house if not whole neighborhood. Linky was always the one word able to be registered during that hellish two years, it wasn't until the third she whimpered his name in a hoarse whisper in sleep, though, unfortunately, Lori was still able to hear, a big reason why she took the night shift at work-she didn't want to hear it and who can blame her.

This was too much for her, enough to fry her tiny brain a million times over she couldn't and wouldn't cease in her continuous crying, the hitching of breath that soon morphed into hiccups that eventually hurt her chest, but it was a distraction and she needed one...to bad that failed. Her will to keep strong faded away fast from the baby, Lyla...her name is Lyla...

His daughter...

Her niece...

"Baby girl" She choked out. Lincoln's ear twitched, his tired stare flipped over to Leni who wept harder when she looked directly at him. She saw so much—too much—from that face she loved unconditionally, and still will, each mark on his cheeks, chin, forehead—everywhere! Filled her with the need to hold him and fill him with pent up love.

What happened to her Linky?

Luna, her eyes, like Lori, her mother, everyone was locked to that baby, even with her baby bro standing there she just was drawn to that kid...that perfect babe...another Loud. She couldn't believe it, wiping away more tears before they could form pricks on her eyes, smearing more mascara without a shit given, the gifted rocker smiled a strained one that was borderline sadness and great happiness. One on that he was here, he was back! And second was because of Lyla.

Yeah she's shocked, mind in a frenzy as her brain cells kamikaze each other for some sense, but the mere look at that kid made her...happy...why? She couldn't place it but his daughter...woah that's a weird sentence.

A daughter, his kid, all of it was a whole other level of a mess for her. For so long she dreamed of the day of him in front of her, she just never thought it would end up with her screaming in panic and falling apart like a little girl but for all she cares she happily says fuck you to embarrassment and saving face as all she wanted was to hear those words again: 'I love you.' Such a simple phrase said over and over for centuries past from all over the world of each nation, but it meant everything to Luna, it meant heaven and hell for the rocker.

Her hand twitched, the same hand that was engulfed in his larger one. She wanted his touch again, she wanted him to hold her and not let go. When they detached appendages she felt the strange, well known, spiraling mess of lost. She wanted so much in so little time, she wanted to be selfish even as wrong as it is seeing her sisters deserve the equal chance with him...Lisa a lot more.

Something they all can agree.

Shaky gasps escaped Luan as she played with the hem of her skirt, scraping her nails against her knuckles as a way in finding a release in her fidgeting. Unable and unwilling to stand in one place it took so much will power within chuckles to not fall, oh how she wanted to fall and say so much in one spew of words. To release all the pent up suffering in hopes that this wasn't a cruel trick her mind is playing on her, or even worse, a dream...that in every sense would mean full hell for her. A hell that will drive her further down a suppressed edge she has fought with a smile. You know the saying, right? The saddest people smile the brightest. He was important to her in everyway she could imagine...she only realized though when Lisa said she couldn't find him.

That's all it takes and she gets it now.

Just one bad day for a piece of your world to crumble. A wall in their chaotic castle torn asunder.

One bad day...

"Dada!" She and everyone else jumped from that innocent squeal of delight leaving the mouth of that precious bundle in his arms, watched as the blue fabric of the blanket stretch when his daughter clapped her hands, he smiling the tiniest of any Luan has even seen as he booped her little nose.

It looked almost alien when he smiled...

Lyla...oh how such a little name from a little one can cause such a rift throughout so many all at once. Luan's lips quivered, her heart pounding faster and harder that she felt the beating against her temples from every light giggle coming from the baby.

The 'almighty' Lynn Loud Jr we all know and love crossed her arms tighter, pulling her skin with digging nails. A seasoned veteran of a gal in ass-kicking and taking any risk no matter the cost, and that's the truth considering all the gnarly injuries she acquired from her numerous actions from the past, wall climbing being the worse of them...if she only she knew what her brother saw happen to the human body than she be considered lucky than the ones from that other Earth.

If only she knew what he done to people.

Angry that her 'weak side' was winning her little civil war within, tears that forced her to move back a step and whip her head from the side so the young man of her attention won't see her in such a pathetic image. That damn growing lump in her throat, every breath hurt more than the ones she knew well on the field when high off the rush and power of her numerous games.

Sorry. That's the one of three things she wanted to say and do to him. To just explode in a fit of sorrys for all she has done to him the past; in being the little demon she was when they were younger, how she threatened him out of her own desires, and how she never treated him like she should. How she wanted to hold him and collapse in on herself and promise she would be better. The second thing she wanted to do was hit him...over and over again as she screams at him for being gone so long. As wrong as it sounds-which it was-she didn't know why but that's what she wanted...and she felt disgusted for wanting that...hating...self hate. A very thing she has been filled with for these past six years that only got stronger after the Battle for Bun-Bun. And the third and final thing she wanted to do was to hold that baby.

That's it...all she wanted was to hold Lyla. Her light green eyes was dead set on her niece, her heart tugging hard, the lumps growing deeper and harder to the point breathing in general may as well be damn near impossible.

She was his, abso-fucking-lutely that baby was his...she can see it with ease. She can also see...him. The way he stood, a position that screamed paranoia, his body leaning forward with the occasional twitch that only her well trained eyes could perceive. She swore it was like he was ready to spring up without warning, the tapping of his right foot, and the burning gaze of his orbs with the dark, sunken bags underneath that screamed a feeling unlike any she has ever seen.

It made her feel sick.

Lucille, or Lucy, the only movement was her chest in her breathing, the twitching of her pale fingers, her equally blue eyes which she shared with her big brother, though more alive(her version of alive) wide and roaming. An unexpected action she took that brought out surprise from the Louds even the prodigal son himself as he slightly, barely a centimeter, tilted his head to the left, she physically lifted the rest of her bangs away from her face, exposing everything to everyone instead of that one eye. Why? So can be sure it wasn't a trick. For the whole time she was pressing her sharp nails within her left palm, sinking deeper and deeper, focusing on the pain as she knew right then and there it was all real, the hell was over. The dreaded blanket of black that even she of all people wanted gone was lifted.

Or maybe the hell has just begun?

Dark purple mixed black streaks of mascara mixed tears continued to run down her face, past her cheeks, and falling off her delicate chin. Though not a complete waterfall of eye sadness she was close to that point. The teenage goth didn't want him to see her cry.

Ever that Duchess of Darkness that called the nightmares and despair her domain or something, that lock in her heart that froze over like metal in a Russian winter wanted to be broken for once as she couldn't handle all of it. Even a person like her has a limit and she was past the tipping point. Her circle of goths at school don't understand and wont be able to feel what she felt. Maybe that's why she was made the defacto head of the Senior Mortician's Club, she was the gloomiest out of them after all. Haiku, her closest, if not, best friend, couldn't comprehend what it's like to lose that one person that made this complicated world a bit better...what's it's like to lose that one guy that made life worth living.

She thought of it...really she has...suicide.

She never acted on it, but the faded cuts on her wrists have something else to say.

Non were of the wiser.

She needed him. The key to her locked soul.

Still searching him over, her heart, as so called callous she wants many to think, melted in a steady pace as she widened her eyes even further by watching the movements of her...niece. How long was it for this? For all Lucy felt the world was solely around them and them alone, playing a somber tune with a hint of happiness in its melody. Said melody was the sounds of the child in his arms.

"Ok, ok baby girl~"

She flinched from the words that left his mouth, how that voice of his: rougher, tired, hollow, and colder belong to him. It wasn't right to her or any of them who new his voice by heart. Given now that he is a teenager it was straightforward for his tone to change, especially for a boy, but it just sounded so wrong...almost broken.

"Alright, Ly hold on." They watched as their brother/son removed his daughter from her sling, revealing her full little form, clad in her onesie, beanie removed as her soft white locks are exposed to the vented air. Leni and Rita cried harder. A croak left Lisa's mouth, as Lynn Sr licked his dry lips. Adoration filled Luna's eyes as her brother allowed himself to have his cheeks patted by his baby girl.

But Lucy was pulled away from another white, that being the worn shirt underneath his jacket. Just one color that put focus on itself more than the others, almost completely hidden by his drooping scarf, red...she saw faded red splotches. An almost rustic red that smeared and ran all over.

Her mouth, already closed moments earlier, shifted into a thin line, she had a good idea on what that was, she hopes its...its not his.

The twins, Lord knows how hard they wanted to push each other down as they race towards Lincoln and hug him tight, cry and berate themselves just so he won't leave them again. It took a shit ton of willpower on Lola's and Lana's part not to do so.

Which is why the older princess, if not closer to a queen now, was holding on to her tomboy counterpart, gripping Lana's stronger arm as hard as she can as her twin doesn't bat an eye as Lana was shaking like a beaten puppy in the rain while the master taunts from the warm inside.

Her prince, her great white haired prince was here. Blinking her eyes Lola tried to form words but like the others a hoarse croak left her mouth, reeling back, shaking her head as her yellow, silky locks wisp around, a few covering her eyes in loose strands. But looking closer, this was not the brother she remembered. It was like he was here but wasn't at the same time. Her heart clenched, mind in overdrive from his appearance, how he scared her when he looked up. Tensed like a beast from the stories she was read at night so long ago. But handsome like the heroes of said stories, he held a rugged look. Her nose twisted in natural disgust from the wretched smell coming off him, enough to make her gag, yet even then she wanted a piece in hugging him with her all might.

Then why didn't she? Why was she afraid?

"Oh my god..." Lola gave a side glance to her twin. Lana reaching a trembling hand pointed towards his daughter. She pictured Lori would be the one who would give their family the next generation, hell maybe even Luna considering how she batted for both sides and couldn't keep her legs shut when the partying gets real during the weekends. Believe her, Lola has seen a few guys run out of the house on some occasions.

But this...

More tears fell from both the twins. Unable to make sense of their brother who was busy brushing his right hand on the black coat hanger, cradling his little girl with his right as she sucks her thumb.

Though for all they cared for he was here—HE WAS HERE! After all this time! All this pain! The lies of saying they were ok over and over to friends and teachers can finally end...they can be a family again.

So they hoped...

"Jesus Christ..." Lynn Sr repeated for god knows how many times without end, but who can blame him?

He was never the closest father to his boy, his only boy that is, but at least he was there...though not as much as his wife was.

He loved him the same, it only fucked him harder in the head and heart to know he could've been better. No matter how much his wife and daughters reassured him, saying how he was the best and most amazing dad there is wasn't enough to stop this feeling of failure to his son.

He never told his daughters, but after Luna was born he prayed for a son, begged even during Jr's pregnancy. Got his wish after nearly giving up...and what of it? He felt he neglected him after his...departure from that horrid science presentation. As he tried to recall all the moments in their life together when it was just them, father and son bonding, he crashed into nothing but blanks.

Well, actually, he vaguely remembers teaching his boy how to ride his bike without training wheels. But Jr...pulled him away for help in her batting...then...oh ya...Lori for her golf and Luna so she could have someone help tune her guitar...then—it just kept going. Next thing Loud patriarch knows he was watching Rita help push her son and cheer him on after he got the hang of with his balance...

Damn it all...no...damn himself, he thought with a look of self failure. His self loathing was short lived though, the older man, greying and all, looked up without hesitation, as if those little gurgles and coos of pure innocence was in control and pulling the imaginary strings of his form. A gob smacked expression, though closing slightly, still painted over the face of the Loud patriarch. All caused by a child who still is unknowing of the world or even the concept that is life. His sons seed who in turn was his granddaughter...his only and first grandchild.

Even then he cannot stop in his tremors that continued to plague in without stop; from when he saw his boy...boy heh' now that he looks at it he cannot really label him as a boy anymore. He just couldn't stop shaking, it only intensified like an earthquake in Japan when Lyla was pulled from her protection.

He was an emotional man, any idiot who at least spent an hour or even sat with him during a showing of the Titanic on TV can tell. Maybe it was part of his nature, or it could be a byproduct of being surrounded by estrogen for so long. And with this raging flurry that filled his mind, and heart-his very damn soul-Lynn teared up, keeping back the strangled hiccups from coming up as he wanted nothing more than to look down on that baby girl and confirm she was, and her father was, real. He had to be strong for all of them, when his wife sobbed he held her tight and soothed her to best of his abilities. To nights with the twins, him standing with Leni after a night terror when Lori couldn't do it anymore, to even consoling the very young woman that held his namesake. There is so much strength a man can carry before his walls break apart.

He even began to think of the very possibility his son was dead...that thought made him disgusted of himself. Hell, Rita slapped him once for voicing that one night as he laid next to her, he became friends with the couch for six nights.

Yet, with what they lost in front of him, he still wasn't set free, that damn lingering prick in the back of his head stabbed hard, his mouth fully closed that his jaw was locked, soreness filled his mouth, trouble swallowing even the slightest of spit. Free from what? Why worriment...that's one. He dreamt of this day, but what he experienced once more was that reality was far from the dreams.

He can't help to admit, but he feels like he's looking at a stranger in the skin of his son. What he imagined what he would look like from all these years is a far cry from what was real. Dirt, grime, the tattered wear and stitch held clothing, to the mess of a backpack. Even more added to his face: broken...the only way, if not the best, to describe what he sees in one word. And the baby? Lyla? Where was her mother?

Pressure weighed on Lynn Sr harder from, just now, realizing his son was, and should be, seventeen...and he was a father. That thought in mind was halted when he saw his granddaughter reach up and grip strands of her fathers hair. Lincoln winced slightly, though in the smallest of creases from his brow, when she pulled hard. He, and everyone else, watched as he just rubbed a thumb on her right cheek as she pulled even harder, a low grunt leaving him.

With no control even more tears fled the Loud patriarchs eyes.

Mother and son. If there was one person in this large pact that suffered the hardest it was Rita, though Lisa...a close second at best. What made her different from her daughters, and the man she loved and sired all his children for...she was the one who carried him for those long nine months, the greatest nine months if she can say, one that was worth the back pains, cramps, constant hunger and the searing pain of feeling like she was being ripped apart again when it was time. How she saw him take his first breath, his first word 'Mama', his first day at school, all the wounds she kissed, the hugs and unconditional love from all the times they played and spent on the couch huddled together as he refused to let go when he barely reached her knee.

You know what's the definition of hell for her? The very fact one of her babies was ripped away from her...that's hell. To not know but still know, if that makes sense, he's out there somewhere, alone, scared, without guidance or love...the very idea of him in pain destroyed her already damaged heart. Her lips quivered from each scar line she eyed carefully, her baby boy was damaged. A bitter blanket wrapped around her tongue. Absentmindedly, Rita traced her fingers of her right over the wet spot created by the very tears of her son when she held him tight with his head cradled on her shoulder. Still drying slowly.

She didn't want it to end, to let go as she wanted to hold on tighter, taking him all in her arms as the young man before her needed her. He needed his mother. Pulled away from a small, in the literal sense, surprise that rocked her core like a tactical nuke dropped on some godforsaken land of a poor city without warning. How she wanted to scream but instead gasped at the baby that held eyes foreign to her but with a face and hair that she knew greatly by memory and heart. Rita couldn't, maybe didn't, believe at first, but one good look and a nod and his words that came next confirmed it to her.

To them all.

Her older mind racked with infighting. So many questions she wanted to spew out as well as the need and desire to touch her grandchild and her father in tandem as she quivers and devolves into the little girl she was so many years ago. She just wanted to know what happened, what did he see to obtain such eyes like those. Orbs far more devoid than the times her father was coaxed into regaling old war stories of his time in Vietnam, the predator feel of the air around him, the scars and stains of red and muck that coated his clothing. She just wanted to know what happened to her baby boy.

So this is the end result, huh Einstein? All the blood, sweat, tears, and constant inner and outer self hate in the form of punches and curses that would make even the most hardened of street rats agape. The already healing red marks on her knuckles flared in pain that ran through her, a product of last nights vented rage from another failure...

Well, that is...but this time something else happened.

What was this? Was it a sign that god existed and heard her prayers? Or maybe the great creator decided to fuck with her and make it seem it was true. That or she was asleep the entire time and it was all a great big fucked up dream...yeah a dream...has to be. All she knew was failure for those past dreaded years. Years that drilled her head with inability to function without any great substance of caffeine through coffee and energy drinks, bad for her health yes, but how else was she supposed to stay awake, with sleep?

HA! She hasn't slept right in years. Even when she does the little genius of a Loud doesn't feel like getting up at all. She didn't see the point at all...sometimes she'll cry...other times she wishes...heh' Lisa Loud crying? As crazy as it sounds she's human like the rest of us. She loves, she hates, she feels simple as that. Now she feels lost...or something like that. She simply refuses of what's in front of her; her breath labored, almost hyperventilating, choking on her spit. She removed her damn glasses and scrubbed away with all her might on the lenses not giving any care at the slight creaking of pressure on the expensive eye helpers. This was nothing more than a lie. Racking what's left of her prodigal mind, deducing it was all just an illusion of massive insomnia.

Over and over she heard those words. 'Its all your fault' Those disgusting words that tore through her like a frog pinned on a students table, gutted like a worthless fish, how it broke her even more, her shell of emptiness breaking and fading into ashes of mocking gestures—'Its all your fault—Its all your fault—Its all your fault!'

 _'STOP IT!'_ She screamed in her mind, never was one to lose self control, but she was no longer that same girl. Forcing her eyes close, shaking her head, but the image was still there. Him and that-that baby. That child! It can't be that easy. It can't even be true.

She didn't mean it...she just wanted to show the judges a great innovation of mankind. He was the lab rat like he always was...she's sorry. She just wants to sleep in peace for once.

'CLINK'

So soft but audible at the same time, the stranger in familiar skin and hair like snow held an object held by a chain dangling a strange orb of a faded red that swung like a pendulum. Lisa carefully looked up, focusing her eyes as she stood slacked jaw at what she saw.

The beacon...her final gift to him. All he had left of them in physical form than the memories he feared were slipping away from each passing day of survival.

As his child leaned her little self forward in the attempt to grab the object in hand her father swung it slightly with the tinniest of smiles. Eyes that held in par like Lisa, but a shade of a different color, stared longly at the object in hand. His tracker, what was meant to pinpoint is location turned into a souvenir of his past.

To the Louds present it was met with confusion, some had to dig deep as they felt they seen it before. But for Lisa Loud...it was like staring at a ghost.

Two simple words left her brothers mouth, rough and slightly drawled like a drunk man. "It worked." A bitter chuckle morphed in his throat, coming out rough and raspy. "Well...kinda...heh'

That did it.

Simple words is all it takes for a moment like this to fall apart.

And, shockingly, it was Lynn Jr that broke rank. The nineteen year old beauty of an ass kicker aimed directly for the only other male that shared her blood. Her body trembled, teeth gritted as muffled grunts escaped her mouth along with shaking fists. Lincoln stared at her with slight awe as he gained a closer look from every step she took. She grew up...who's he kidding? They all did...and he missed it. In his mind back in that hell he imagined what they would look like, so many possibilities but they ended the same: beautiful in their own right...and he was right.

Its funny. Just came out of nowhere, no warning or final whatever...it...he's here...he figured that was life in a nutshell, just jumbled randomness with a hint of crazy 'cause that's the life he lived...that's the one he knows.

Before he knew it, shuffling his arm slightly for Lyla, she was standing before him. The others didn't know how to react as they watched with bated breath, though Leni was falling apart fast as she took a step forward herself. He was forced to look down slightly to meet her eyes, the very green orbs that held a fire he always admired. The passion and great confidence that his older sister by two years...heh' it was funny in its own right that he had look down at her-Lynn Loud Jr of all people.

Yet besides all the past achievements combined with names and awe and love and cheer of her name in the courts and competitions of sports all this young man saw was a face he yearned to touch and believe was real as his leg twitched, from the slight rapid beat of his heart, and the slightest lost of breath. A face that haunted him...one of twelve...well...actually thirteen...

 _'Liz...'_

Jumping slightly from the sudden feel of a soft but rough hand carefully feeling his face, pulled from his self pain of the one he loved and lost, his eyes flickered down to the green wet in tears of his older sister. Taking every detail he can he came to find acceptance, though small. Maybe it was finally over, maybe he can finally start over.

Maybe Lyla can have a chance.

Lynn's lips quivered as she uttered one word. "Lincoln?..."

He blinked, smiling as he raised his own hand and carefully brushed his fingers against her stray bangs of brown. She gasped from the sudden sensation of callouses and warmth of his palm.

"You're short." He said.

Lynn blinked, mouth slightly open as she stared owlishly at him. That's it? That's all he has to say to her-'Your short' nothing more? But for some reason unknown her mouth quivered, lips curving upward as a low chuckle left her. Little by little it grew until full blown laughter took her over, tears slipped from the broken damn, snot soon followed.

Raising a clenched hand Lynn smacked him lightly on the chest. "You bastard." A crack in her laughter.

"You bastard." Again she smacked him, harder than the first. "You bastard." The laughter was gone as pain crept over and filled her voice as she continued to hit him harder and harder. He stayed in place, unmoved, letting her.

"You bastard. You bastard. You bastard! YOU BASTARD!" Her fist fell apart as she resorted to pathetic smacks of her palms that simply rolled off his body like a dog pawing for attention. Her face covered in tears as she cried harder and harder, voice inaudible with her words garbled and gone. A strong hand landed on the back of her head, she looked up as she caught the faintest of words through blurry eyes-"I'm sorry."

"Lada." She jumped from the softest of touch she has ever felt from a tiny hand unsullied and still pure, feeling small digits tap her cheek. Lynn turned her head as she meet the brightest green she has ever seen. Lyla, curious at the stranger close to her and hitting her daddy, continued to smack her aunts face. "Lada! Lada!"

She didn't know what do. Recoil was one option but the male holding her had something else in mind. Carefully grasping her chin he turned her face to him, an expression of a lost little girl masked her, something he has never seen, but today was one full of surprises. "I think she wants to say hi," he said gently. He moved her face without resistance towards her niece.

"Lyla, this is Lynn. One of your aunties."

 _'Lyla...'_

"Lada!" The one-year-old smacked her cheek again, giggling the entire time.

"No, baby girl. Lynn."

"Lada! Lada!" Jr did not react beside blink from every time the infant made contact with her face.

"Eh' close enough."

Lynn brought a shaky hand forward, catching the tiny appendage of her niece, engulfing the entire hand with delicate care she feared the child may as well be made of the most expensive of porcelain money could buy. She let her hand be swung around without effort from the baby, who in turn gazed at her, only Lyla blinked from this undeclared staring contest...before bringing her aunts hand to her mouth, drooling all over her knuckles.

Lincolns smile widened by a fraction, he whispered to his sister, "She likes you."

She met her limit. Lynn fell apart fully right then and there. Burying the side of her head on his chest, letting out sobs of held in agony needed to be released, her hand still in the mouth of his daughter. Her cries pierced the hearts and minds of every Loud present, her brother looking down at her as he rubbed her head, she gripping his pant leg with her other hand.

The others followed. Hell, he nearly forgot about them until Leni screeched-"LINKY!" With speeds that would put the broken athlete by his feet to shame. Nearly pushed against the wall as Lynn was pulled away by her older sister, her hand leaving Lyla's gums. Leni latched with all her might on her brother, unable to be pried off as she refused to budge, legs dangling slightly on his taller frame. In the spur of the moment filled rush of her glomp Lyla burst into a fit of giggles, he regained his footing before another weight was added.

"BIG BROTHER!" Lana buried her face deep within his jacket, not minding(or even noticing the smell). Very words that meant more than she ever thought this twelve-year-old twin feared will never be uttered again in her life. Words that stirred a lost warmth inside her brother that he believed he buried years ago after his acceptance of never coming back. Feeling the growing dampening of tears soaking through his raggedy clothing. He unable to make any words besides grunts of more bodies on him, a few of his sisters, one by one fought for a piece of him. Lola and Lana pushing the other as the latter gripped tighter and buried her face deeper than before, Luan pulling his free arm close to her chest, Lynn finally finding her bearings, she ignored her forceful release as she hopped to her feet and proceeded to wrap her strong arms around his neck, forced on her tip toes, chin resting on Lola's head as her body pressed against the twins.

An unreadable expression of slight fear and what looked like protective instinctual aggression took hold of the Loud brother for the slightest of seconds before he mentally smacked himself that he was in no harms way, and that he safe—they were safe...she was safe. Relaxing his grip of his daughter as she clapped her hands at the odd bunch of young women all over her father.

Rita and her husband smiled warmly at the sight before them, as well as Lori, Luna, and Lucy, though a small one but filled with as much joy she was capable of by the latter. Lily was still so confused she didn't know what to make of this. Lisa...she just couldn't accept the reality.

Sobs and words filled the living room. Lola saying how sorry she was for never treating him better, Lana telling him never to leave again, Luan just rubbed his hand, tracing over every scar and still broken skin, Leni proceeded to kiss him over and over again on the cheek, startling him slightly before he relent, while Lynn brushed her fingers through his hair, feeling the grime and muck still intertwined in his locks. Even with all these weights on him he didn't show sign of strain, just lost of balance.

A certain bundle tilted her head curiously at the long golden strands of hair dangling in front of her. Lyla extended her hand and gripped her prize, yanking hard. Leni yelped a piercing pitch that the others jumped off, worried for her, but that quickly went away when the blonde ditz looked down at the little baby chewing on her soft hair. The others soon followed, Rita pushing herself forward, her husband followed as well as Lori, Luna, and Lucy. The pain was ignored. To Leni it was worth it; every detail of her cherubic face, to the brightness of her evergreen eyes, and finally roaming to the tuft of white hair that nailed the coffin of her parentage. Leni looked up at her baby brother who stared back with tired eyes, a simple nod he gave as she tilted her head to the side, carefully placing a trembling soft hand on the tinier one pulling on her hair. Lyla stopped, looking directly at Leni in curiosity.

Leni leaned forward, she brought her nieces hand to her lips, kissing it softly. "Baby girl..." Her heart swelled when Lyla coiled her fingers around her thumb, numbing the second eldest Loud daughter in newfound love. A wide, happy smile covered Leni's face as she sobbed. The twins stood closer, usually many would've expected them to push and fight the other just for the chance to touch the child in his arms, but, in this moment, they just stood mesmerized.

That just won't do.

Lana shook her head, determined to make herself known to her niece, she'll be damned if Leni gets all the attention. The tomboy took a step forward where she reached a hand over to the year old, who in return was pulled away from Leni and to the new strange hand of her other aunt. Lana rested a digit on her stomach and proceeded to lightly tickle the infant that Lyla exploded into a fit of squealing laughter. A grin grew on Lana's face that she motioned her twin over, even going as far to grab Lola's hand herself. It wasn't long that both smiled and giggled in tandem as they assaulted their niece in tickle love.

Luan pouted, huffing that the blondes are getting all the attention. Moving around her brother she leaned forward towards Lyla's face, doing what she knows best, and that's the dumbest silliest face she could muster. Cross eyed with puff up cheeks and her tongue blowing a raspberry. Lyla froze for a second...until she laughed, smacking her hands and reaching up for Luan.

"I'm Luan." Softly stroking her little white strands. "Lu and an, can you say Luan?"

Lola was not having it, she declared war!

"No, say Lola! It's way more-OFF!"

Lana pushed her aside as she brought herself closer. "Hell no! Lana! Come on say Lana. It's way more easier than those two."

"I was first!" Leni protectively wrapped her hands around Lyla's hands. "Come on, sweetheart. Leni, like, its just Len and E."

Their parents were chuckling at the battle for love. Lori with hands on her hips, long wiped away tears with puffy eyes, huffed with a smile. "Actually, if she is going to say anything, its going to literally be me first."

Luna scoffed. "Best eat your words, sis." The rocking beauty bent forward and booped the child's nose. "I saw her first. Ain't that right, luv?"

"A name uttered by a baby is a sacred bond of love and eternal trust with the markings of a new, great begin-"

"Sweet mother of Christ!" Lana jumped as did the others, sans Lincoln and his daughter, from the sudden presence of Lucy. Linc smiled all the same, he found it funny how all eyes were off him and aimed at his seed...well not all eyes.

'Lisa...' He sighed in his head.

To rub salt deeper on her sisters, Luna puckered her lips, kissing Lyla's cute little nose. A cheshire grin exploded on her face, the others wide eyed at her sudden physical act. "Now, say Luna, luv."

Lola called blasphemy as the others rallied before her.

Luna just responded with—"I kissed her she's mine."

"By what right!" Luan yelled.

"The law of love."

While this was going on, on the side stood a very miffed Lynn Loud Jr. No way in the name of any god's mother is she going to be pushed away from this. Ready to raise hell she was stopped when Lyla saw her and cried—"Lada!"

The others turned, Lincoln was busy staring at the ceiling, roaming every inch of wall and anything that caught his interest. It was like nothing really changed. Sure it was a mess of past events in the form of cracks and stains and the possibility of the roof falling on your head with no warning, but unlike all the other houses in his long journey, there was life, no vines or weeds or long decomposed corpses of those who placed the barrel in their mouth, having given up when hell broke loose. Not abandoned. It just feels...wrong to him.

"Lada! Lada! Lada!"

Thus the victor was crowned. Lynn smiled, racing over to her niece. _'She remembers me!'_ Giddy excitement coursed through her, her sisters stood slacked jaw and a little hurt.

"Dada! Dada!" Lincoln was pulled back, looking down at his heart, following her extended hand pointed at his sister. "Lada! Lada!"

"Yeah. Lada, baby girl."

Hearts dramatically shattered, the once faded Loud house exploded in noise as eight of the ten Loud sisters did whatever they could to gain the attention of their one and only niece. Lynn on the other hand was in cloud nine of happiness, yes even though Lada was in no way in hell her name she'll take what she can get. So today she is Lada...until Lyla can say her name right.

To Rita it was a sight to behold, her husband sniffled, failing in his attempts to stop his crying but it was too damn beautiful for him not to. They never thought they would see something like this again. Rita giggled when Leni once more began to kiss her baby boys cheek, nuzzling close against him as the other four that made up the five oldest did too. His cheeks had the faintest of pink but quickly dusted away as he hummed, relaxing himself, but still holding strong. Each kiss, be it from Lynn or Lori, felt weird to him. He hasn't felt this sensation in so long he nearly forgot what it meant have this. The one thing in life many have fought and begged for: a family...people who love each other.

Does that mean he can, after all this time, let him in? Can he let the human he pushed away in?

Can he sleep this time?

"Linky?"

Pulled from his dark musings, he looked over and saw the worried stares of his sisters, but it was the stare of his daughter that broke him away fully. Carefully rubbing his hand around her soft face. "Sorry, baby...daddy's just...tired." None were convinced...not even Lyla.

He gasped from the sudden warmth and gentleness on his chin. Pulled over he was face first, though having to look down, with his mother. The very woman responsible for giving him life gazed lovingly that only a mother can produce. The surrounding girls made room for her. Carefully Rita rubbed the hairs on his chin before tracing carefully every mark of faded and still healing damage on his cheeks, lip, forehead, and neck. It was too much. The damage, the lack of life in his eyes, the baby...she just couldn't handle it any more she had to...to...

Lincoln placed a hand over hers, she gasped lightly, shaking. It was time for him to return a favor. Let her pain be his, let his shoulder be soaked in her agony. That's how it went, he gently brought her to a hug, one arm still on Lyla, while the other held her tight. She racked, she sobbed, she broke. Stroking her aging hair Lincoln hummed a light tune for the very woman who meant everything to him, the one he cried and prayed for in nights of fires and human rubble. The very woman he begged for forgiveness after his first human life taken by his tainted hands.

"I'm not going anywhere...I'm...we're here to stay." He whispered to her ear. The Loud mother pulling apart slightly, nodding with a happy smile, kissing his cheek. She continued to look up before pulled down from the familiar tugging of her shirt. With a warm smile Rita proceeded to tickle her granddaughters chin, the baby grabbing her finger and ultimately placing the digit in her mouth.

"She's beautiful. Lyla?"

"Yeah...all I could think of in the moment."

Rita smiled all the same, cooing at the baby, stroking her cheek. "It's perfect." Pecking her granddaughters cheek. Carefully stoking her chubby cheek. "Yes you are~"

Lincoln looked down at his seed and softly stroked her chubby cheek. "She is." He mulled over his next words. "You...uh...want to hold her? You're grandma after all."

Rita broke into a fit of chuckles. God does she feel old.

It was strange. She held so many babies-eleven in total-and yet Rita felt fear of, well, possibly dropping her. That's crazy in its own right, hell, she held the youngest of them through stampedes of feet, never dropping or losing a grip from either. But with Lyla, the slightest shifting of her arms made this old woman quiver. It was exciting, scary...it was...by god was she beautiful.

To the young father it was strange...he felt...is free the right word? Not to have the added weight and feeling of a small body pressing against him, to have both his arms free for his own use. It didn't feel right, that feeling in his gut told him to take Ly back and bolt, that instinctual feeling he fed and nurtured through fight after fight and mile after mile of dense forests taking back what was once theirs to the ruins and debris littered streets of the once grand continental United States.

Thinking was something he was good at. It was all he could do for six years. And he was thinking on where the hell is he to start on what happened-how did it happened-let alone on where he was.

 _'It's a theory. Nothing more, nothing less...'_ Lisa's words filled his head from that fateful day. A theory that came true.

"Hngh." Lincoln grunted from the sudden pressure placed on his right arm, flicking his eyes over he was met with a mop of black hair and pale skin of someone he held truly dear to him. His gaze softened, the teen smiled, leaning down so his chin could rest on top of her head, she hugged him tighter, body jumping from the slight hiccups that made so little noise.

His princess of midnight.

How could he forget her? Never. The one he has watched and been with as she grew from the baby he fell in love with and swore to protect. Never faltering as others did from her strange appearance and actions when she was brought home so many years ago. Something he saw that only highlighted her beauty. His lips quivered slightly from the thought he missed out on so much; his little dark queen blossoming into this well defining young woman.

He wrapped an arm around her, pulling the teenager closer, she in return refused to look at him as she buried her face deeper on his being.

He was used to it by now...the pain.

Her body shook, silent sniffles muffled, but he heard them clearly.

What could he do? What could he say? How does one fix six years? Where do you start?

Questions without clear answers...but he never one to take the easy road.

In this moment, it was just them, no one else.

He leaned forward, resting his chin on her head, softly stroking her back, she flinched from his touch, Lucy's legs falling weaker by the second.

"I'm not leaving." She wept harder, arms wrapped around his back tighter, pulling on his jacket. "I love you."

Her voice was soft. "I...love you too."

He knew she needed him...they all did.

"The hell you are." A stern voice yet soft voice said. Turning his head he was suddenly wrapped by the arms of his eldest sister, tensing slightly but quickly relaxing when Lori kissed his cheek once again. He felt a wetness on his skin, knowing it wasn't from her mouth as he saw her eyes were still leaking in tears. Her soft hand caressing his hair like she done so when he was a toddler.

"I'm home," he said quietly.

Lori's voice cracked. "Your home."

Still there were more love to give. Lincoln perked up at the approaching sight of his father, feeling his sisters release him, though Lucy was pulled away with some force by Lori. Little goth had the grip of a cat on its favorite scratching post. The girls watched the only males in this estrogen house, Lyla pulling her grandmothers hair, Lisa trying to differentiate reality and imaginary hallucination, and Lily still on the second step-uncomfortable.

To Lynn Sr's shame he couldn't look his only boy in the eyes. Every time he tried to meet those blues head on he felt more shame, lowering his long balding head like a beaten mutt.

He was a sensitive man, that Lincoln knows best. Studying the very person for his existence the young father took it gently, he took it to heart that more locked emotions thawed. His throat hurt, swallowing became a chore. There were times Lincoln wanted...well more from his old man. More on him being a man and teaching him what he needed, being there in general. What sucks more is that he learned more from his own grandfather than the only other man in his life. He loved him dearly don't get him wrong, but at times he wondered if he was born a girl than maybe they would've been closer.

He needed him.

Lynn saw the way his sons hands clenched into fists, how they shook. Fighting the wince he sucked in his fear and looked up, resolve on his face. Whatever his boy is going to dish on him so be it. He deserved it.

But what he didn't expect was the streaming tear falling from his sons face, nor the hug that engulfed him so fast he had no time to gasp. Standing inside the hardening grip of his boy, Lynn tried to make words but Lincoln beat him to it.

"I missed you." It was a hoarse whisper, broken and full of need. Tears welled on the older Loud man, leaning his head back as he stared at the ceiling, teeth clenched, he broke. All the pent up love and need swam over the two, son hugging father and father weeping on sons shoulder.

It was a beautiful sight, the girls surrounding their mother and new addition in her arms smiled, Lucy more like an upward curved line, but still a smile.

Until Leni realized something. Looking up the blonde beauty called out to Lily, startling the little girl from her stupor. But she was too slow for Leni as she went over and grabbed her baby sisters hand, pulling her towards the others. "Wait! Leni let go!" Fear flooded Lily when she was let go, but found herself standing in front of the strange man who is supposedly her brother.

She just couldn't believe it. Even with the ring around of sobbing and emotional pain she...couldn't trust it. But what was this feeling? Her chest pounded, she thought it was from fear but it felt more inclined to...need.

"Christ," Lincoln said with a hint of disbelief. A dry taste filled his mouth as the familiar knot took hold of his chest and up his throat. Staring down at the little girl before him. All he saw a precious little one that shared his blood. Beautiful, cute—he missed out.

It was like he looking at a stranger. The feeling of mutual.

Lily shuffled her feet, finding anything that wasn't his face interesting. It was really his eyes she was trying not to make contact with as they freaked her out some. Made her want to hide even.

Lincoln was in a messy state of his own. He done things: killed, tortured, stole, burned—a lot of things. Death and pain on others no longer fazed him like it should for a normal person. But by the mere sight of this little girl he was...well scared...he thinks. He had no real clue on what to do. The others saw his distress, as well as Lily who was carefully slipping away closer to the stairs.

Rita and Lynn gave the other a worried look as well as the older and younger sisters. Well, all but Leni who was confused on why Lily is looking at him like that. She should be happy to see her big brother, let alone meet him after so long, so why? The ditz was determined.

"Lily it's Linky."

Lori placed a hand on her sisters shoulder. "Leni...she doesn't-"

Lincoln interrupted her. "You don't remember me...do you?" He swallowed, looking up at the ceiling, nodding his head as he wiped a hand across his face, pacing back and forth for a second before he smiled lightly. It was a smile of sorrow and acceptance. "Can't blame you. I mean you were still in diapers, heh' could barely say anything either than poo-po…" Lincoln stopped himself, running his fingers through his hair as he knelt down to her level. Lily flinched back slightly. "Fuck," He breathed. Ignoring the surprised looks that he of all people would drop the F-Bomb.

Together, both middle child and baby sister, stared at the other. Lily feeling that strange sensation grow stronger in warmth in her chest, fluttering her heart. She watched as he tried to make words, failing. His hand dropped to his side, face twitching, she saw pain in his eyes as water welled, his adams apple bobbing. He hated it: crying. It does nothing but make you a target. Weak prey for the bandits and others wandering through the wilds.

She deserves better. They all do.

He bowed his head, but his self loathing was interrupted by a small hand, soft and flawless, pressed against cheek. He stiffened, but relaxed at the warmth spreading through him. Lifting his head he was met with the curiosity of his baby sister. Lily leaned forward, her fear slipping and draining away. The sudden need to feel him, to know he was here and to satisfy that nagging feeling.

The one person in her young life she wanted to know.

She tilted her head, raising her other hand, fingers shaky, hovering as fear crept back. "Li-Lincoln?"

His face lost all emotion as a blank canvas took over his features. His eyes staring owlishly at her, mouth closed.

Lily's hand in the air slowly fell back in the attempt to retreat, but he was faster. Carefully he moved his own hand and caught hers in his grip. Her heart beated faster. He rubbed her knuckles and brought her hand over to him. She saw the look of asking in his eyes, she smiled warmly and nodded. He kissed her hand and brought it to his cheek where she felt his face.

"Hey, Lil'bug." Tears fell from her eyes as he sucked his up, though the water was still there.

"Big brother." She let go of his cheeks and wrapped her arms around his neck, pushing herself against him in a hug which he returned.

"Baby sister." He kissed the top of her head.

The beautiful sight was met with loving smiles, Lucy's version of loving in her case. Lynn Sr sniffed, rubbing his eyes. Rita leaned forward and pecked her husband on his cheek before she cooed at the bundle in her arms. Lyla squirmed and made gibberish all the while giggling at the many different people surrounding her.

The hug had to end. Lily looked at the direction her brother stared at, from the far corner of the living room stood the broken scientist. The afternoon turned dimmed from the time passing and still she was in her pajamas from this morning...and the day before that...and before that. At least she brushes her teeth, so that's something out of nothing. Despite her messy look and sagging dark bags beneath her eyes, covered by her glasses, she was, to Lincoln, beautiful. His little baby sister, the very one he will never fault for this mess. How can he? They had no idea. The demonstration was supposed to take him at least what...fourteen maybe sixteen feet? He doesn't remember. But it was supposed to take him to the far corner of the stage. Instead it took him to an alternate dimension.

So he guess that .00000000-it just keeps on going-one percent theory or whatever was in fact true.

Like a zoo display he was watched, so was the genius, by their family. Lyla too lifted herself up, thumb in mouth, watched with curiosity as her daddy stalked forward towards the shivering girl in green and glasses.

His face displayed the same passive look but emotion raged like a fire fed gasoline within his eyes, as Lisa's were wide and wrapped in panic and denial. The ten-year-old walked back from every step he took closer, her bare feet stumbling when she took a wrong footing and she fell on her rump. Worriment filled the other Louds, but they controlled themselves, well Leni was held back by Luna.

They couldn't mess with this.

Lisa scampered back like a beaten and frightened child when dad comes home drunk and angry. Her back kissed wall and yet she continued to push back, nails raking against carpet, back of head hitting the wall, her legs huddled and pulled against her as she breathed erratically. "St-stay away!" The family recoiled, never have they in their lives heard her scream that loud. She was loud in everyway, but she let her experiments do the loud for her, but that time passed and soon faded. Lincoln did not falter. He looked down at her, she whimpering and holding her head down.

The teen bent down and reached a hand for her.

"YOU'RE NOT REAL!" He stopped.

Whimpers turned into sniffles.

"You're not here...he's not here."

Sniffles turned into sobs.

"He's not here...he's dead...he's always been dead."

Lincoln closed his eyes. He knew very well something like this would've taken over her. He loved her and she loved him like a sister should, her pain fucked him up when was a kid. Now that familiar sensation, the one about being an older brother, he embraced it. He missed it. Now by watching her-like this-to the point she can't make sense of what's real and not...it fucked him up. He is and will be fucked up, so what's one more 'eh.

He bowed his head, licking his upper lip with a nod. Taking a breath and releasing, the young man removed and held the beacon between his fingers. Lisa jumped from the clinging of metal.

"I think I am," He said, rubbing a hand across his chin. "Sometimes...just that feeling." He broke into a fit of chuckles. "You know like...dead and...fuck," He stopped, throat hurting again. The beacon swinging and chiming. Lisa stopped her crying, listening to the deadman in her head, his voice so different yet so familiar.

"I can't...I can't," His voice broke, she can hear the pain as he tried to make sense. "I don't know how to fix this. I don't know what to do. I can't change anything." Tears trailed his cheeks, running down his scars. Lisa's heart felt like it was being stabbed over and over from every word he said.

He wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. Pulling the beacon back he closed his palm against the orb, giving it a good few shakes. He brought that hand forward and opened.

"I love you," He whispered to her and her alone.

Silence. Pure silence besides the gibberish of the baby filled the house. Finally, what seemed like eternity, Lisa looked up. Her eyes focused on the young man before her and flickering down to the beacon. With a tentative hand she reached for her final gift, but as she went for metal she instead touched skin. Her entire being froze. Just a mere touch and she felt warmth...the warmth from actual skin...the kind from a living and breathing person. But allusions don't work like that.

Her eyes widened. A finger became two and two became three and three a hand and one hand became both. With both her smaller limbs she held his bigger one. Their warmth intermingling with the other. He smiled at her, using his free hand to cup her chin and have her look up at him.

"Look at how beautiful you grown."

A tear went down his hand.

Lisa reached for his cheek. "You're real," She whispered.

He kissed her forehead. She buried her head against his chest, her tears and snot mixing with the others from earlier. Not that he or she minded. Stroking her head, soothing the girl as he stood up she went with him. Dangling, Lisa refused to let go, just gripping him harder. The chain wrapped around her hand and swaying left to right and vice versa.

When he was turned he saw the smiling faces of his entire family. Though focused mainly out of instinct on his daughter first. Walking towards them he was met the very number one question he was dreading and trying to figure out how to word it from Luan.

"Where...where were you?" The comedian gained nods and looks at the male. Others voiced their own questions.

"Who's Lyla's mom?" Lana asked, eyeing her niece.

"Why are you dressed like that?" Lola asked, looking him up and down. "And what's that red stuff all over your shirt and arm?"

He was swamped by question by question.

Leni timidly asked him-" A-and th-the scars on your...face."

"..." Lincoln pressed his tongue against his cheek inside, soon biting and chewing on the skin of his mouth. He felt a hand pat his face. Looking down he was met with Lisa starring up at him, still wrapping his arms around her, he placed her down gently. She still held on to his hand, refusing to split.

He had to say something, they had the right to know and he had to tell them. Nodding his head he figured he had to start somewhere.

"How much..." He stared intently at Lyla, eyes softening before he focused again on his family. "How much do you guys know about the concept of alternate dimensions."

Lisa's mouth dropped, eyes wide and stuck on him. He awarded her with a nod. "Like I said, it worked...kinda." He rubbed his thumb on her hand.

"Alright...story time."

 **~oOo~**

Horror.

Pure true horror filled the minds, and hearts, and very inner soul of every Loud parent and daughter who dared to stay and listen to his tale of hell and fire and lost of humanity chipped away by day and week and month and year. Lincoln sat in the couch with his heart in his arms as she played and sucked on his thumb, occasionally eyeing her extended family, though mainly Leni's hair as she extended a tiny arm, wanting a good yank. Lily fast asleep in Lori's arms, her innocent mind giving up to sleep and comprehension. Fighting back and demanding to know as he said it was best she didn't know, though she was a stubborn one. Runs in the family after all.

Lincoln knew he had to start somewhere, so he told them what happened, the very day of the science presentation. All he felt and experienced when he screamed and cried for help, hands banging against the reinforced glass window. The panic and then the coiling and finally the 'ZAP' that still haunts his ears by the occasional ringing at night or any random part of the day.

Then he told them the aftermath. When and where he woke up in some field of bushes and wild blue bonnets, the cold air and the long stretch of road littered with the corpses and acting caskets of cars.

Heh' how he screamed when he saw the still seatbelt wearing...man? Woman? He had no clue anymore. Long decomposed, skull littered in broken glass, eyeholes and agape jaw with weeds and wild plant life sticking and coiling out, how its rib cage was wrapped in vines.

It was unbelievable at first. But his voice and eyes told a different story. Lynn, Lori, and Luan feared the worse that he lost his mind, living in some messed up fairy tale.

That is until he began to pull out souvenirs from his backpack. One by one he pulled out photos taken by an old instant film camera. Colored, but semi faded, stains of blood speckled some. Each one was a horrifying image of a still man and women and children and even animals, all rabid and spewing saliva, veins bulging and insanity through their eyes. Others were of that of broken towns and cities. Jaws dropped and some gagged at the sight of a pit of decomposing bodies of people...all...just people. It was so focused, Lincoln himself, younger and what they made out was a machete in his hand, frozen and pointing at the bodies with a cold look and a lips in a thin line. Some had holes, others had slashes, ropes and other objects wrapped around their bodies.

"Bandits got to 'em." He said so simply with a shrug. "Nothing to do but learn and not make the same mistake." By that Rita wanted to vomit, but all she could do was dry heave and rub her face and hold her cheeks, her husband sick to his very core from more pictures of the death.

Just kept on coming. Newspapers he collected, also dirtied and yellow, but the pictures and words visible and readable.

Lynn Sr holding the papers with a shaky hand, hand in mouth and eyes widening from the headlines of **'MARTIAL LAW'** and **'BRAZIL: MASS GRAVES IN RIO'** accompanied by a photo of a man in a full white suit, mask, and a long tube with the tip on fire, attached on his back. A flame thrower. And it was aimed at the ground where rows upon rows of green body bags mashed and tossed lazily underneath the other.

But it was the dates that nailed the coffin even harder.

2024 and 20...2027.

It was 2023 today...what is happening...

"Oh my god," Luna whispered when she flipped open herself and was met with the picture of people being shot at. **'NEW YORK: MILITARY OPEN FIRE'** this one was 2022. A year ago.

Eyes focused on Lincoln when he cleared his throat, by that time he was ready to tell them what happened to that world.

"There's not...well really much I can fully explain. Most what I can get is from that stuff in your hands, stories of those who are still alive when it began. But...I got a pretty good gist of it."

So he spun the tale of infection and the fall of that mankind.

It was night by the time he finished his little history lesson. By that every word that left his mouth sunk deeper within his family. Lily's soft snores and Lyla's noise was all that was heard.

Lola stuttered. "Six-sixty years?" Her face pale.

Her brother shrugged. "Give or take."

A part of him didn't want to tell them.

Lana gulped, fiddling with her hands by popping them, trying to find a distraction. "And those...those monsters—"

"Puppets," He interjected. "They call 'em Puppets."

"Puppets," Lana said, swallowing. "They're not dead? They're still...alive?"

He nodded. "From what I can get, the virus is in control. They're not zombies...they just lost their minds...just...lost."

But the other part, the biggest one, knew he had to. So he did. No bullshit. No other way to sugar coat it.

"God," Rita breathed. Her eyes wandering over her boy, her baby boy. It was too much for her to handle. Her husband stood to side, pacing, hands opening and closing, his eyes lost and mind scrambled.

LJ walked over to her brother, leaning down to stroke her nieces face. She asked—"And her mom?"

She knew the answer to that. Even Leni of all people. She just needed to hear it from him.

"..." Lincoln just stared at the ceiling, blinking. No emotion on his face.

Lynn touched his arm, he looked down at her. "What happened." She looked down when Lyla let go of her daddy's hand, reaching and gripping Lynn's instead, which her aunt allowed.

"Lada!" The baby said.

Her father watched the exchange. Staring at his daughter, caressing her face.

"Dada! Lada! Lada!"

She had her mothers eyes.

Finally, he said something. "Dead." Like a sharp knife cutting through. What else can he say?

Lynn closed her mouth, biting her bottom lip as she rubbed her thumb on Lyla's chin. Looking back at the father and his daughter.

"H-how?" Luan asked the dreaded question.

He lifted his daughter up. "By bringing her final gift to that world for me."

Luna gritted her teeth and looked down at the ground. "God dammit." Her shoulders shook.

"She just...lost a lot of blood."

A body suddenly fell, panic assumed as Rita rushed to her second youngest. Lisa hyperventilating, biting out any word she can as they came out the same.

"It's my fault! It's my fault! My—" Her mother held her tight, trying to at least calm her some but the girl was wasn't budging. White creeping in her vision, her mind swarmed with curses thrown at her. All she could think of was that it was all her and just her who caused this. She put her brother through hell, she made him suffer in a way no sane person should. She did this.

The demons in her head was winning, like they always did. But he was here! He was here and it should be fine! Who is she kidding. She knew well—more so than any of these average to even lower than average...for fucks sake even they know that's not true. A happy ending? No.

Nothing will ever be the same...and it's because of her. She began to cry, wailing apologies at her older blood brother. Begging him to forgive her.

Lincoln got off the couch, catching Lynn by surprise, swiftly he moved towards Lisa. Lily stirred in her sleep but was still out like a light. When his mother looked at her son he stopped her from saying anything, Lyla still in his arms, he shifted the baby and knelt towards his baby sister. Who in turn stared at him through bleary eyes. Snot dribbling down her nose and her whole world spinning as her head throbbed in pain.

As it was said before, Lincoln will never EVER fault her. She has nothing to be sorry for.

"I-I-I-I'm—" He placed a hand on her mouth, shushing her. Her chest heaving and tears rolling down as she continued to spazz out.

"It's not your fault," he said calmly. "It was never your fault." Her eyes widened and she shook her head in disagreement. Gripping his hand she tried to pull him off but to no avail. "How were we—you—supposed to know? Hmm? We had no idea. You can't do this to yourself." He removed his hand, her only sounds were coughs. "I'm here, and whatever happened over there in that...place is over." He smiled and pulled her close.

"And you know what...she's here because of you." He pushed Lyla closer to her. The baby stared curiously at her auntie, bringing her arms forward. Lisa stared at the child back, she stared longly at his seed. "And she'll live and love."

Lisa blinked. She brought a hand over to her niece, who in turn grabbed her fingers and brought them to her mouth, nibbling softly on her aunties digits.

"You're here." She said.

Her brother nodded. "I'm here."

 **~oOo~**

 **Bathroom...**

It took longer than he thought it would. Though he hasn't touched one of these in years. Standing naked in the shower with his daughter, also without any clothing, in his arms as nice hot water fell and pelted their dirty skin.

Dirt, grime, and long dried flakes of skin and blood fell from the duo. He knew people back in Lyla's world would kill for this. Literally. Clean water is hard to come by, but hot water to bathe was even harder if you were going west, let alone any run of the mill settlement. He doesn't even think the military has something this good back in their walls.

He gasped and lapped the water with his tongue like a dog, just trying to get all of it. Speaking of Lyla, she squirmed and squealed and giggled at the warm sensation on her soft skin. Clapping her hands and smacking her fathers face.

"Like that baby girl?" She responded by yanking his hair. "Ow...yeah...me too." He pressed his back against the shower wall, shivering slightly from the cold sensation, reeling back some. The teen gripped a shampoo bottle from his left and slid down. Bottom hitting the tub, his head leaned back and rested on the wall as he closed his eyes, turning Lyla around so she can face him, ignoring her light smacking on his chest. Legs pulled close to him as he was too tall in this position.

"Ok," He breathed. Opening his eyes he shifted and waddled with his knees to the two faucet controls. Biting back curses as he messed up from every turn. "How do you..." Nope. "Sonava." Try again. "Broken whore." Whispering the last part for obvious reasons. "There." As it turns out it was fourth times the charm.

He moved back to the other far corner of the tub when the shower head turned off, letting his legs loose and able to relax. He chuckled from the excited splashing of Lyla, her little hands smacking the water.

"Dada!"

"Water baby girl...good water."

"Atter! Atter!"

"Close enough." He brought Lyla to his lap, bringing the shampoo bottle with him. "Alright, hold still."

She did not.

 **~oOo~**

 **Bedroom...**

It was...quite a sight when he stepped inside his old room. Before so, arguments broke out over where he and Lyla should bunk with. Course Leni was the first to raise her hand with Lori backing her up, then Lynn and Lucy, and next Lola and Lana...you get the picture. It was enough to put a smile in his face. That noise, the noise that made him feel something at least.

Surprisingly he said otherwise. When asked why he just said he needs to be alone right now, and that Lyla was too tired right now. Closure and what not. They understood, though a few frowns here and there, his mother wrapped him a hug and kissed him and her granddaughter. She had to be pulled by his father when she refused to let go.

Leni stood and stared at him with a sad look, Lori had to pull her away when she refused to move. It made him feel a bit shitty from how she stared. But he waved it off, bringing his flask up and gulping down the fiery liquid.

His breath reeked of alcohol.

It was like time just froze and now play was played when he sat on the bed, looking over all his belongings when he was a boy. Too tall to even lay down on his bed he was forced to sit with his back against the wall. The only sounds were the light snoring of Lyla, curled around a blanket with a fresh diaper and one of Lily's old hand-me-downs in the form of a light purple onesie, courtesy of his mother rummaging through a few things when she saw her granddaughter yawn. Pulled close to his leg, Lincoln absentmindedly stroked her side.

The moon was the only light source, but it was enough for him to see himself starring back at the mirror hanging on the desk drawer in front of him.

Taking another swig he capped and placed his flask inside his jacket. Opened slightly and exposing some of his bare chest. When he lifted his hand mirror Lincoln did the same, and in his hand, like real Lincoln, was the revolver.

He gazed at the weapon, the grip molding perfectly in his hand, finger brushing the trigger carefully. Every second he looked at the door and back at the gun, his mind on auto pilot, the need to protect his child and himself from the outside pounding and taking over. He shook his head, calming his beating heart.

No. No he's not there anymore...there's nothing to be afraid of...it's over...the monsters are gon—

The door creaked open.

With no thought he sprung to action. Feet hitting the floor, not enough noise to wake Lyla, he aimed his weapon, eyes narrowed. Finger on the trigger.

"Linky?"

 **~oOo~**

 **[Outro— Welcome Home by Radical Face]**

 **And that's a wrap! Stopping there.**

 **I want to say thank you for everyone who stuck with me and continued to support this story so this is for you guys.**

 **I want to also give a shout out to my friend Rogue Command for his help and the like. Thank ya my friend.**

 **I feel proud that I got up and pushed through to finishing this chapter, though I feel it doesn't deliver like it should. I tried though. Ah well.**

 **Also to those that know: yes I deleted I'm Back. It was my decision and I'm sticking with it. It will be brought back, but not for some time.**

 **That saying, I'm also going to do this. I decided to pick two stories to put more focus on and those two are: This one—Not the same and Gun For Hire. So expect another chapter for Gun soon. I got the idea down and all I need to do is type it.**

 **Don't forget to comment and review. I'll also take PM's if any of ya have any suggestions you want to say.**

 **Thank you.**

 **Hound, out.**


	4. Chapter 4

**So here we go**

 **No the story is not dead.**

 **Final exams, so fuck me.**

 **Anyway, where we left off is pretty interesting eh?**

 **Linc is back, his family knows the truth...well not all of it, only the basics of the hell he was sent to but not what he's done to survive. Lyla called Lynn Lada-awww. Speaking of said baby being smothered by the many hands of her aunties wanting attention and a turn with her. Lisa finally having closure, Lily finally meeting what felt lost inside her for so long, Lynn Sr feeling regret on being more of a father to his daughters than his one and only boy, but Linc loves him anyway.**

 **And so on.**

 **Oh! And world building, as the story continues I'll be trying to give pieces and pasts of the other Earth he was sent to: I'm calling it Puppet-Earth.**

 **Now...him and that gun...boy oh boy.**

 **Now! Story time!**

"Talking"

' _Thinking/Inner thoughts'_

 **~oOo~**

 **Bedroom...**

There's was something someone told Lincoln he never really understood the first time he heard it: the gun is apart of you, for in hell it's just you and only you with your gun by your side.

Yet now...now he understood it well, and he agreed as much it was apart of him. Aimed down at the opened door, the only light the moon from the above window of his old, cramped and dusty room. Untouched, or so he thought, either than him and now his daughter as she slept peacefully on his old bed. Drool dribbled down Lyla's mouth, the baby unware and lost to dreamland as daddy, once more, took the role of protector. The natural light highlighted his figure, outlining his hand molding against the revolvers grip with his finger massaging the trigger.

Loaded and ready to fire.

All he needed was to the push down and-

"Linky?" The voice was soft. It was female. It was one he knew well that he froze in silence. Bared teeth and the ugly scowl on his scar ridden face faded away as a blank expression took over, evolving into shock, then a shaky somber as he was met face to face with the cinnamon bun of the Loud family: Leni. An angel in a green nightdress and lushes blonde hair, sleep mask pulled up to show her concerned and full of fear eyes.

For the first time in a long one he felt sick with himself from such a face piercing him.

' _Stop looking at me like that.'_

His stomach churned. He's seen that face so many times from so many people begging for their lives, even the fucking bandits and Uniforms of the military of all people in the outskirts as they knew he had the power to end their lives when they were on their knees. But unlike them, he felt something. He felt like shit. He felt like he was staring at one of gods children and she was afraid of him.

Afraid. A feeling he relished in others when he stood above them. A feeling that meant his survival as he knew being feared got you another day-let alone an hour in this cruel, twisted world of plague and monsters...he grounded his teeth, shaking his head furiously and forcing himself to remember that this world- this Earth- was not the other one. Not Lyla's home dimension. This is a world where people can be people. He doesn't have to be like this, yet at the same time he knows he can't help it.

Leni, feeling the lump in her throat, opened her mouth, her entire body shaking with understandable fear. Just moments ago she felt like crying at how he stared at her, it was disgusting, it was a face she never wants to see from her Linky, but now nothing but concern flooded her from how he violently shook his head, other free hand clawing his own cheek in rapid scratches of some sort of panic.

"L-Linky?" Her eyes tried to look at his, but instead she was making idle conversation with the gun. She knows very well what he was holding, and she wasn't that dumb to know what it can do. Her gaze flickered over to Lyla, the baby caressed by the moons love and touch, in her own little world.

The weapon started to shake, and gradually Lincoln dropped his hand, index off the trigger and uncocking the revolver in tandem with his other. Looking down, patting his thigh with the pistol he refused to look at her. He had enough images in his head that won't let him sleep already, he didn't want to add how she looked at him into the vault of trauma and dirt.

Little brother and big sister stood silently. A pause to compose themselves. Leni played with her long, silky hair, running her hands down the yellow locks as she looked at the gun in his hand and back to him. The gun...then him...the gun...him...the- it just kept on going. He in turn still refused to look at her, shameful of himself and tired. Very tired. The dark bags under his eyes showing days maybe weeks, maybe longer he doesn't know nor does he care anymore. To him his health means nothing, all that matters is his little girl. So long as she lives he's fine with it.

Leni in her part could not take it, to see her baby brother in such a state broke her even more than this entire evening did of his return and his...horror story. One she cannot forget no matter how hard she tries, and she's _"supposed"_ to be the one that forgets the simplest of things after three steps.

Taking a breath and a mighty brave step the blonde ditzy beauty eyed her brothers chest, slightly exposed from his ratty and disgustingly worn jacket. Bile risen in her throat and she grimaced as she swallowed the acid back down, all from the slight speckles and even large splotches of red on the fabric. She of all people knows it wasn't paint. He had to do things to survive-horrible things.

Lincoln winced with a muffled grunt when he felt a softness best compared to the skin of his daughter touch his chest, the cool skin made him shiver as he breathed deep. Looking up he saw Leni inches apart of him as she traced her fingers across the visible scars on him, opening his jacket even more.

The more and more she felt the more she regretted it. It was enough to make her cry, and it did. Tears welled in her innocent orbs and fell from the sight of all the slashes, punctures and what look like claw marks. He twitched when she stopped and pressed her palm where his heart is, her hand was cold. Feeling even more brave she took the next step and pressed against him; bottom of her face resting against the crook of his neck, eyes staring solely on her niece who mumbled and dribbled in her sleep.

Carefully Lincoln wrapped an arm around her and sighed.

"I'm sorry," He said, holding her tighter, her hand pressing even more on his heart while her other pulled on his jackets fragile fabric. "I'm so sorry."

He didn't know what else to say but that. He felt it didn't mean anything, it doesn't mean anything really to him anymore. Except to Liz and Lyla, to him every "sorry" meant something, but with the former gone...he came to terms he'll never be the same.

Leni's voice, though soft and muffled, met his ears. "It's ok."

 _'It's not, never will be.'_ He chuckled bitterly in his head.

They pulled apart and with it her hand, in that moment he forgot that touch and felt hollow again. Ah well, he mentally shrugged.

"Umm...L-Linky?" Nervousness filled her again, swaying back and forth, eyes lingering on the cold piece in his hand.

"Hm?" The young man rose a brow.

She pointed a finger down. "C-could you put that away...p-please?"

He furrowed his brow, confused for a second. _'Put what awa-OHHH. Shit.'_ Realization hit him and he mentally smacked himself, awarding Leni an awkward smile that did nothing but make her even more uncomfortable, rubbing her arm she averted her eyes as she couldn't stand the sight of the loaded gun.

Nodding, Lincoln walked over to his old desk and pulled open a drawer, staring silently at the contents with a raised brow at the scattered note cards of scribble scrabble his younger self drew, along with crumpled and messily folded paper. With a shrug he placed his revolver carefully on top and closed the drawer.

With a tired sigh, he stepped back to the bed and sat carefully so not to disturb his child as he groaned in relief in being off his feet; still burning and achy in his knees as they popped slightly. Days to weeks of nothing but walking and standing with not much rest has taken its toll, now add that into six years and he has a pretty good idea that not everything is ok inside, well physically he means. Mentally is another story.

Leni continued to stand in place, sorta, hopping on one foot and the other, leaning side to side and rubbing her arm and the stroking her hair. Looking back and forth at Lincoln and the floor she was stopped when he cleared his throat.

He smiled some. "Ya want to sit down? Be rude if you just stand there." He patted the opposite side by Lyla lightly.

Leni nodded quickly, smiling herself. They placed what just happened moments ago aside and best to not speak of and forget...for now.

The bed shifted from her weight, she making sure to not disturb the baby who muttered gibberish that Leni froze in fear that she done it and the house will be filled with crying and screaming, but instead her niece snuggled deeper against her blanket and drooled all the same. A tiny content grin on the infant's chubby face. Warmth and love filled Leni, carefully she stroked Lyla's side, running up with a circle around her cheek and finally feeling the white tufts of hair she shared with her daddy.

"She's beautiful," She whispered, other hand pulled close to her chest as if to stop her heart from exploding outwards into the open.

He blinked, giving her a sidelong glance. Really examining her. Even after all these years she was still Leni. That's the best way he can explain it for himself to understand. Soft, kind, pretty and eyes full of life it made him flinch when she looked at him. All in all...it was a shock to the system, like so many others before during his adventure.

He looked down, biting his cheek until he felt flesh rip and that familiar iron taste flooded him, it was relaxing.

"You know," he uttered, she gave her full attention to him. "You'd make a pretty good mom." He gave her an awkward smile, trying to lighten the mood, only to receive something else.

Leni froze, eyes wide-wider than he ever saw from her-mouth agape as her cheeks turned a rosey pink and then scarlet, though he couldn't see fully from the darkness.

Removing her hand from Lyla she placed both her limbs on her cheeks. "M-me a-a-a mo-mommy?" She stuttered, shaking in place.

Her brother had no idea what was going on, though a bit concern from her reaction, he shrugged all the same. "Yeah, I mean why not right? I think you'd make an alright one."

She didn't hear him as images flashed in her mind, those of her cradling a baby close to her chest with a tuff of yellow on her head, to that of her kissing her imaginary child, and to the first day of school and— oh god! She felt so heated it's like steam would flow out of her at any second.

She was so engrossed she didn't hear her brothers voice calling to her until a pressure was felt on her shoulder, gasping in place she turned her surprised expression over to Lincoln who's mouth was pursed and eyes tired.

"Y-yes Li-inky?" Her hands patting her thighs, gripping her nightdress tight and playing with the fabric.

"Why are you awake?" He asked. She blinked, shaking her head. Awkwardly twiddling her thumbs now.

"I-uh...like...couldn't sleep." That was half the truth. In reality yes she couldn't sleep, but the other part was that she wanted to make sure he was here, really here. She was terrified to believe that all of this-his return-was none other than a figment of her mind messing with her-tearing her fragile space again. Along with her imagination pounding her mind from what he's been through, well from what she imagined...and she hated.

Gulping down her building emotion, tired already as it is from it, she in turn asked him the same question.

"I don't sleep much." Simple and straight to the point. The bluntness of his tone made her flinch from the emotionless response.

"Why?"

All she got as an answer was him bringing a hand up and tapping his left temple with his index.

Silence reigned supreme once more. Moving her mouth to find the right words, Leni assumed something else from what he was referring to.

"A headache?" Tilting her head in question out of instinct. Her brother opened his mouth then closed it, tapping the side of his right index against his forehead with an amused smile and shake of his head. Ahhh, right, he forgot who he was talking too. Deciding to go with it he nodded.

"Yeah...yeah a headache. Nothing major so don't worry much."

She frowned, puppy eyes aimed at him but he already turned his head away. _'I'll always worry Linky...for you and'_ Her hand landed back softly on Lyla. _'Her.'_

Lying came as second nature to him, built up from practice in speech, body movements to even the eyes. It's a lot harder than he thought in the beginning, but, like all things, put enough time and it'll be second nature. He didn't understand why every time he lied to her he felt a growing pit, gnawing at him, a pressure building up in his chest telling him to be ashamed for lying to such a person like her. The angel in turquoise. Hand clenched tight, broken nails digging into already torn skin. But it was for her own good, so he told himself, for all of them. He just didn't want to worry them.

By the look of it he's doing a _wonderful_ job.

It's embarrassing really for him: seventeen-years-old and still suffering though night terrors. He's supposed to be past that- BE STRONGER-yet here he is, to damn afraid to close his eyes and face what he's done.

All of this is just some sick joke in the end. Hell, someone is ought to be laughing.

He licked his lips, throat clenched in longing for more liquid fire. He wanted his nightly buzz.

Clasping his hands, rubbing his thumbs together, picking blisters and broken skin, he stared at the mirror once more for the night, watching his reflection mimic his movements.

It was just so odd for him-talking to someone who isn't his daughter or Hope.

He blinked.

Hope.

He remembered, hell it was not that long ago, a day at best. They been through thick and thin, miles upon miles of wilderness and destroyed beauty, and all it took was a lucky shot from some bandit with a gun. She was a good horse, he was thankful it was quick. She deserved such that.

A soft yawn pulled him back to reality, looking to his side he saw his older sister sway back and forth, hand brought up to cover her mouth, eyes dropping with each breath she took.

 _'Amateur.'_ Grinning from his own joke. Back and forth he watched her rock side-to-side, battling to stay awake like him, yet she lost the battle. With a final push Leni fell to side and landed her head carefully against her brothers shoulder. He tensed out of instinct, cursing at himself, knowing he has to fix that somehow.

Before darkness swept over her, Leni muttered a final "Linky."

Looking over his sister he gazed down at his daughter between them, a small smile on his face as he swept a thumb across Lyla's cheek and bringing his hand back to pat his sisters shoulder.

In the end it was just him.

He stared at the door, eyes locked, body ready for any moment to spring to action. Forgetting that there were no Puppets. No monsters.

For the entire night he waited.

 **~oOo~**

 **Lisa's and Lily's Room...**

Her hands hurt.

Tightly held in the palms of the broken genius was a silver ball, the metallic chain slipping through the gaps of her fingers, pressing on her skin as she tightened her grip even more. Yet she was not letting go, not for the entire night as, with this beacon, she felt liberated, she felt at peace for once in these six years that she can close her eyes unworried by what mental images her mind would instinctually create in nocturnal rest through REM. Street name: dreams.

Lisa knew it was far from peaceful-obviously any moron with at least two brain cells can comprehend a long struggle is coming. But for now she wants one night-one damn night-for herself to know peace and not anxiety, to know she, after so long, finally done it. She brought back the piece that was missing...along with quite a surprising extra in a form of an infant female.

"Lyla." She whispered silently so not to awake her younger sister and roommate. Chuckling internally to know that the L's still go strong.

Though as good as she feels a frown still took over her face as she opened her eyes, turning on her back the ten-year-old stared at the ceiling.

Hell. Horror. What should be fiction is a reality in another realm with the same name, same species, same history but a different road that diverged into a different future.

Her mind never turns off, part of the curse she supposes of the balance with the blessing of being a residential genius. But for that long night she was plagued with questions. Questions of her brothers time. Questions of these...Puppets. There was no way it was something as idiotic as zombies-the dead stay dead and that's that.

She remembers he said so himself. They were not dead, he clarified, but lost and gone.

Rabies? A mutant strand? But that doesn't explain the faded but clearly colored polaroid pictures she looked over from his tale that showed their strange characteristics: dark liquids from the mouths, veins bulging in a sick hue to the skin-what was it? What destroyed that other mankind?!

She stopped suddenly, hands burning even more from her iron grip that it seems the beacon may break from her force. Turning over to her side so she was facing the wall, Lisa closed her eyes and took even breaths.

 _'No.'_ She mentally told herself. _'No screaming tonight...not ever.'_ She relaxed, palms and fingers a burning red. _'Not again. He's back. He's real.'_

"He's real." A final mutter as she succumbed to sleep.

She wasn't alone. Questions plagued through each sister and matriarch and patriarch of this chaotic and now healing family. To the point they all could only blink and stare blankly before sleep took over and won their little mental wars.

So the Loud family slept.

Except one.

 **~oOo~**

 **Morning...**

Thus another day in Michigan and the rest of this part of the world the sun shined his bright face downwards. Another day of poor fools cursing for another hour of sleep. Cold winds blew and leaves danced with them, brought from one point of the city to another. Some left to be taken by nature, others crushed like nothing by joggers and the like.

Another day.

Leni laid, with her legs curled to her chest and arms wrapped around her knees, sleeping peacefully on her brothers old bed. Relaxed and content with a small smile on her face, yet the sun still got her. Rays of light shone through the single window and to her face. Her face scrunching and she moaning a long drawn out "Nooooo."

With Mr. Sun saying 'Yes.' He won the battle and she woke up. Pulling herself forward and back as she stretched her limbs, sighing in relief from the tightness of her body leaving and feeling refreshed. Suddenly she remembered where she was, and last night...and the gun.

Quickly blinking with a shake of her head as she pushed back that memory for now, Leni patted the bed and said in a happy voice. "Morning Linky! Morning Lyl-"

But when she looked around her surroundings they weren't there. Blinking once more, she felt a tremor pass through her, her heart speeding and nerves getting the better of her. Shakily she sat up, legs dangling off the bed, frantically she looked around for them. Her hands shook and she yanked her hair in panic, pure fear ran through her like rabid hounds on the loose. Her poor mind playing with her again.

She can't find them! Where are they!? Oh god! Oh god! Oh god! This wasn't real! He...he wasn't real. All of it was just a dream, again. She walked in on his bed and fell asleep again, imagining everything.

She could do only one thing, and that's scream.

Hearts thumped and rapid sessions of different pairs of feet marched through the halls with worried and frantic voices barging in. The door flung open and gasps went around from the painful sight of the families special angel. Cradling herself as she sobbed and struggled with words that all came out was garbled gibberish and high pitched squeals that it hurt the ears of anyone. Rita sprung to action, pushing past her husband, Lori in tow, the two women by Leni's side-holding her and trying to calm her.

Rita grabbed her daughters cheeks, her heart in pain to see such a sweet girl in misery. "Leni. Leni look at me, sweetheart."

Leni did such that, for that few seconds her mother saw a broken girl staring back at her before she dove in and hugged her mom with all her might. "He's not real!" She wailed, confusion swept.

Lori sat down and calmly rubbed her sisters back. "W-who's not real?"

"Linky!"

Eyes widened. A shutter through their bodies.

Leni kept going. "He-he-he's n-not here! A-and Ly-Ly-baby girl!" It was all a sick twisted dream, that was all it was to her. "It never happened." Leni whimpered on her mothers shoulder.

Rita felt cold, looking around, her baby girl in her arms, she didn't see her son or granddaughter. Turning to her husband. "L-Lynn?" Her other daughters, the younger ones, had tears form in their eyes as they were swept up in this morning mess, thinking the same, but Lily kept strong. The youngest saw her roommate shake and mutter incoherently. Grabbing Lisa's hand the genius looked down to see the calm, soft smile her younger sibling gave her, relaxing her some.

"Your hands." Lily said simply.

Looking at her hand Lisa saw she was still holding the beacon, chain limply dangling.

"He's real." She whispered. Lily nodded.

Luna spoke up, her in tuned ears, years of all sorts of sounds benefitting her in picking out unique tones. "Dudes, do you hear that?"

Lynn Jr blinked, grinding her teeth in stress, a shake in her voice. "Hear what?"

Luna shot and arm and shushed her, pissing her sporty sister off a bit, until it dawned on LJ. Laughter...baby laughter! It was faint but she can hear it, the others soon came forward as their eyes widened in tandem.

Luan nodded. "Outside!"

 **~oOo~**

 **Front Yard...**

The hell? Lincoln mouthed, swearing he heard a strange sound coming out the house, turning back he shrugged. Though he can't help but think it was along the lines of someone screaming.

Weird, he shrugged, going back to watching his little girl. Both sitting, well Lyla crawling in her case, on the soft grass of the front yard. His daughter exploring her new surroundings with much gusto, kicking her legs back and forth with her arms in tandem to a new direction leading to a new journey in her eyes. Her father smiled softly, playing with the grass in his hands, plucking a few strands and showing his girl.

"Grass. Can you say grass, Lyla?"

She blinked, smiling an open smile as she reached for the green strands in his hands. "Gess! Gess!"

He chuckled. "No. Grass. Gr-asssss. Come on I know you can do it."

Yet she was a stubborn girl, just like her mom. "Gess, dada! Gess!"

Lincoln sighed and gave up, his hand loosening that the grass flew out with the winds. "Close enough."

Times like these are what he treasured the most, the small things that remind him that there's something to live for-to fight for. And she was it. He stared curiously at his daughter, she in her own wonder at the simplest of things. Patting the ground, giggling from the falling leaves.

His eyes softened, hands on his lap, it wont just be him and her anymore. She'll get to live he kept telling himself. She'll get to live life in general.

He stared up at the sky, trailing the smallest cloud. "I'm trying Liz." He muttered. "For our girl I'll try harder."

That's all he can do, but it doesn't feel enough.

"LINCOLN!" A rough feminine voice screamed that he jumped, mind on autopilot as he dug his hand inside his jacket for his gun, only to touch nothing but fabric as he was reminded it was in his drawer since last night. Though by that time it was too late, he was tackled hard, brought to his back, hands in fists he gritted his teeth, raising his hands he was ready to pound down on his attacker, but stopped. Yellow hair filled his vision when he looked down, next for his tackler to look up and for him to meet the face of his little sister.

"Lana?" He breathed, gasping slightly from the force she placed on his ribs. Damn she was strong...she was crying.

Tears fell from her eyes along with snot as she hitched and sobbed against his chest, pulling his jacket that the already fragile fabric was pulled to its limit. Her blue tinted green pajama shirt stained with her fears. The twelve-year-old began to shake her head left and right and smacking him with her hands. Cursing at him in broken speech.

As he was beyond confused, his sisters, all in pajamas, rushed and divided towards him and Lyla who only stared, right hand in her mouth. Soon picked up by Luna who brought her close, smothering her rocking new niece with kisses. To think it was just yesterday and she fell in love.

"Don't do that again!" Lana continued to hit him, though weaker and more sluggish. "W-W-We thought you were gone...that you left again."

What is wrong with him? Why can't he stop making them hurt?

Something he hasn't felt in a long while surged through him, a feeling he felt only yesterday. Brotherly instinct. He placed a hand on her head, fingers playing with her ruffled and fuzzy bedhead he gave her a soft smile. His eyes scared her, they were not 'his' but she couldn't look away. Even then she felt safe and secure when he patted her gently.

Lynn and Luna argued over who got to carry Lyla, until Leni snatched her away from the rocker, the baby squealing in joy from being spun.

He shook his head, sincerity in his rough voice. "I'm not leaving-never am."

Lana wanted to believe it. She looked at him, trying to show strength but the quiver of her voice and lips ruined that. "Swear it." She said firmly. "Swear you'll never leave...not again."

"..."

The tomboy placed her head against his shoulder. "Please." Her voice a whisper.

"Ok." He nodded. "I promise."

"Best keep it twerp."

He hasn't heard that name in a long while. Looking up he saw Lori gently smiling at him, her eyes misty. To call him 'twerp' after so long made her smile wide and him chuckle with warmth spreading through him. He took Lana's cheeks in his hands, a girlish giggle left his little sister who could only look at him curiously.

"W-what are doing Lincoln?" Lana said between laughter.

He shrugged. "Ah, just getting a good look at my baby sister."

If she could she would've pouted. "I'm not a baby anymore Lincoln. I've grown." Pride in her tone.

He held her face in place, staring blankly at her with a cold expression-the perfect poker face. No sign of physical emotion. It scared her, freaked Lori out too who bent down and placed a hand on his shoulder. Though in that few seconds Lana saw something in his murky, ocean like eyes. In that eternal sea she saw sadness and regret.

He nodded his head, rubbing his thumbs on her cheeks. "You really did. Strong as hell too, hurt my ribs."

She chuckled awkwardly. "Sorry."

He shook it off. "Eh."

"Eh?"

"Yeah, just eh."

Lincoln let go of her cheeks and got up with a groan, his sisters and parents cringed from the sickly popping of joints. He saw his mother walk up to him, quickly he caught her in time when she brought him in a tight hug. He hugged her back as tight, resting his chin on her shoulder as he leaned forward. His father was by their side and patted his son on the shoulder, next Lana came in, the Lola, next Lucy and-well you get the picture. They may have made an early morning scene, but to the family like the Louds, why should they give a damn what others think?

And speaking of the Louds. The newest and youngest, held in her sporty aunties arm grabbed a good handful of Lynn's hair and yanked with all her might.

"Ow!"

"Lada! Dada Lada!"

"Yeah, Lada baby girl."

 **~oOo~**

 **Kitchen...**

It was beautiful. A masterpiece in his eyes. Now to be ravished by him.

In front of the sole son was a plate of freshly made eggs, bacon, and hash browns and a cold glass of orange juice. His mouth watered at the smells, stomach aching and begging him to consume the meal. Taking his fork in hand the teen brought an egg to his mouth, eyes widening from the burst of flavors of spices and time and effort put to make this by his father. He could cry.

People back in the other Earth would kill for this...actually they would kill for all of this. And he knows it, having seen a man stabbed to death for apples. Most of them were riddled with worms though, but you have to eat.

He didn't seem to care he was making a scene. Scooping mouthfuls of eggs and hash he dropped his fork all together and began stuffing his face with every piece-even the scraps of his plate. Smearing grease across his face, going as far to wipe his fingers of said grease and suck on his fingers for it. He made Lana look like a prim and proper lady when she eats and that's saying something.

His family watched him with wide eyes, some loosing their appetites, but a question rang in his fathers head and he cleared his throat to ask.

"Um...son?"

Lincoln froze in place, plate lifted up and his tongue stopped midway across the middle as he literally was licking it clean. Slowly placing the plate down he brought his hands to his lap, a neutral expression on his scar ridden face.

"Yes?"

Lynn Sr scratched his chin. "How...what did you eat over there in that," He can't believe he was about to say this, "Other world?"

His son had to ponder for a second, then he shrugged, bringing a finger up to swirl around the now spotless plate and bringing it back to pop and suck in his mouth. "Whatever I could," He said. "I was usually on the move and most villages or towns around were pretty spread thin." He leaned back against his chair, picking his teeth. "Well those still standing."

Luan piped up. "Still standing? What do you mean?" She actually dreaded the answer.

Her brother flickered his gaze at her and then the ceiling. "Kinda how I said it. Not a lot of towns survive by themselves the first years, let alone months."

The comedian swallowed, willing to press on. "Because of...what are they called?"

"Puppets?" He returned. She nodded.

He tilted his head and gave her a so-so with his hand. "Sometimes, it's actually rare. Most of them populate the old cities."

 _'The human ones that is.'_

"It's usually fighting against bandit raiders, sometimes infighting...the Uniforms." He whispered the last part.

"The what?" LJ asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing."

When he closes his eyes he can still see the fires.

Awkwardness and unease came back, completely ruining appetites. Lucy narrowed her eyes as Lori stared at him, scrutinizing his expression and words, she swore she heard him say something about uniforms. He's hiding something. A niggle in the back of the eldest's head told her to get it out of him, to force him to tell her everything. But she pushed that niggle away for she knew what he's been through and what he has to say she is pretty sure she, and let alone, any other human being in this plane cannot in any way, shape or form relate. But that wont stop her, she won't lose him again-no way in fucking hell.

Lucy rubbed her left wrist, right above her long arm warmers, right where self-inflicted scars still remain. She has secrets of her own. She was weak. But now she is willing be stronger for him and her niece.

Lincoln waved a hand. "But for food I ate what I could trade, or caught."

 _'Or stole and killed.'_

"If I'm lucky there's a pond and fish. Berries-hopefully not poisonous," His mother flinched. "Meat is hard though...so I do what I can."

In his fathers mind he was wondering, and fearing, how many times his son went hungry. Oh god what about his granddaughter? The newly made grandfather turned his head to watch his granddaughter smack her hands on Lily's old high chair they dug out from the attic, dusted and still holding on strong. Mush of saved baby food in the just in case cause in this house it's not unheard of another 'surprise' coming in this world splattered around. Lyla continued to kick her feet and eat her breakfast with much gusto.

"Well someone's hungry." Lincoln muttered, pushing himself off the table, walking to his daughter he pecked her on her forehead. "Look at you being dirty. How's breakfast baby girl?"

In return he got a handful of mush smacking him on his face. Laughter reigned and dominated the house.

Lincoln smiled, leaning in with a finger pointed at his daughters face. "You're gross, you know that?"

She bit him.

 **~oOo~**

 **Lincoln and Lyla's Bedroom...**

Faint scratches of scribble scrabble sounded through the renovated linen closet as his makeshift pen glided carefully and skillfully through the handmade and bounded pages of his journal. An ugly looking thing, leather old and rotted in a few places with holes and marks speckled around, papers from both that made and cut from dried animal skin and that of actual paper held together by dry and tightly wrapped with yarn of all sorts of color, many snapped and retied over and over again, constantly adding pages as the inside looked like a messy pattern of yellow and white and coffee stained paper along with all types of smears the eye can perceive.

He made do. And it was pain to acquire the parts necessary let alone make it.

Lincoln rose his "pen": a handmade wooden tube, splintered slightly at the butt, the tip made in the image of a fountain pen, sliced and molded from scarp metal, held to the pens body by silver and slightly rusted wire. He brought it down and dipped it in a small glass cylinder, cork by the side, filled with black ink, tapping it by the side he went back to writing.

That or reading or telling Lyla stories. That's all he really could do for any sort of pastime let alone entertainment. Books? Now that was...iffy to say the least. Depends on where you go to be honest. The Uniforms, from what he told by story tellers and people who recounted the past, raided a bunch of libraries to preserve the knowledge, but really to hog all of it for themselves to keep those in the wilds and away from their power illiterate. It worked...to an extent. He can recount so many times others were surprised he could read, let alone how many times he read for them.

The Uniforms or Military, or the so called remnants of the United States of mother fucking America. Heh' give him a break. Assholes through and through.

In the end now it doesn't even matter. They don't even exist here-none of them do. It's like a stupid horror story that everyone would call you crazy for believing. Those six years are nothing in this realm. But to him they were something.

With a sigh he took a cloth from his backpack, leaning by his right leg, and wiped his pen clean, tucking it inside the extra spine pouch of his journal. Corking his ink and closing the book and picking up a long white yarn and wrapping it twice around the journal, taking a clip and, well, clipping it to keep shut. He placed it inside his pack and pulled out a book. It was grey and horribly torn, the right edge of the cover wrinkled to the point if he pulled hard enough it'll be enough to tear apart in a clean line. A long dark road highlighted forward with the yellow markers, leading to a shadowy figure as lighting strikes down on him. Flecks of white fell off the edges of paper as he slid his thumb down slowly. 'American Gods' was the title, a gaping hole above Gods.

Twenty-seven. Twenty-seven times he read this book. Front to back and back to front once, he was curious. Yet he never skipped a single page.

Free time. It felt weird not doing anything. His daughter was ripped from his arms and thrown into the beasts that were her aunties. He knew she was in the right hands, safe and sound yet he felt hollow without her by his side or in his arms.

Shaking his head of these thoughts he got off the bed and took his book with him.

"Who knows," He said to himself. "Maybe it'll be a different ending this time."

And he went out the door.

...

...

...

...

The door opened. In came in his mother who opened her mouth but stopped once she saw her son was not there. Blinking Rita hung her head and closed the door, she was bringing herself up to talk to him. One on one was what she wished for, something she longed for with her baby boy. She just wanted to ask him, and hope to god he tells her the truth, if he's ok.

Deep down she knew the answer.

She felt misty in her worn eyes from just standing in his room, really taking it in. She remembered how when he was a little boy, no older than four, how he bounded and jumped all over this tiny space, happy and cheering at having his own room. She giggled when she remembered how he ran in her and her husbands room in just the first night afraid of the 'monsters' under his bed.

Her smile fell.

The monsters...

Quickly Rita clapped her hands and shook her head, taking a deep breath to calm herself, pushing down that...talk. Last night she and Lynn both took those old newspapers he showed them, for that night they read and shook like children told a retelling of a horror story by the fire. But this wasn't just a horror story, it more than that.

Curiosity took the better of her as she stared at his backpack, that ratty and disgustingly rotted fabric thing, laid by its side, open and exposed. Without much thought she found herself walking to it, entranced and filled with questions that ran and jumbled her mind with even more. She wants to help her son but she doesn't know what to do or how to approach this. How can she fix this cracked piece of the mirror that is her family? How can she have her little boy again?

She saw a dark brown book, hugged by thread and held together by a clip. Like his backpack and jacket it was ugly and broken. With careful hands she picked it up, examining it with her eyes, weighing it with her hands, feeling the papers that jutted and ripped from edge to edge.

She had an idea on what this was.

Was she really going to go this far? Invade his privacy? She couldn't stop herself.

She peeked.

 **~oOo~**

 **[Outro - Human by Of Monsters and Men]**

 **And that's a wrap!**

 **I have not written anything in a long while but I feel a weight lifted off me from just doing this. It feels good.**

 **I hope I did well. If I didn't than I promise I'll try harder in the next chapter and even harder in the next after that if I have too.**

 **All in all I hope ya'll enjoy this.**

 **Leave a review, follow, fav etc.**

 **Till next time.**

 **A swirl of questions keep going.**

 **Lucy's scars. Who are the Uniforms? Rita peeking on his past. What he's done. The battle for Lyla's love (Lynn is already ahead with the whole Lada thing)**

 **Hound out.**


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